How Do I Love Thee A New Version of Jane Eyre
by Bonbonnett
Summary: This is a twist on the original, a slightly different story-line with mostly your favorite characters. I hope you will like it-there will be surprises and lots of k-i-s-s-i-n-g! Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1 How It All Began

HOW IT ALL BEGAN

There is an old saying about mighty oaks and little acorns—it was from such small beginnings that these events came to pass which I am about to lay before you. Read and reflect upon them, for it is true that the turning in the path of one's life may have come and gone, before one realizes it was there to be chosen—or not...

As a penniless orphan, I was unwelcome in my Aunt's household from the moment I arrived. As long as my maternal Uncle Reed lived, I received decent treatment and protection from the constant jealousy and bullying of my older Cousins. Unfortunately, my Uncle was ill and died within a few years of my joining his family.

When I was ten, I finally rebelled against my ill-treatment, and by way of punishment I was sent to a rather bleak charity school. It was the making of me—I found myself in a completely different sphere where my talents were encouraged and my abilities appreciated. I finished with a first-class certificate and an offer to continue as a teacher. I took the offer, because being only sixteen, and with no home waiting for me, I felt I was not yet ready to face the world. Two years went by: the Headmistress went away to a new role as a gentleman's wife; and I thought it was time for me to consider having a change also.

But, it developed that there was no need for me to seek adventure—a letter came for me from a London Solicitor named Briggs. In this letter he informed me that I had another family on my Father's side; an Uncle, my Father's Brother, who resided in Madeira; as well as a previously unknown set of Cousins, who lived in Yorkshire, the children of my Father's Sister. The eldest of them was a clergyman and there were two younger sisters—they were eager to make my acquaintance and wished to invite me to visit them soon.

I was delighted and wrote to them immediately. They answered my letter by return of post in the most cordial terms and within a few days I was on my way to stay with them. The sisters, Mary and Diana, were all I could have wished for in a family, I felt myself fortunate indeed to find such warm and compatible companionship. The brother was rather austere, but very kind and gentlemanly in his conduct. They were all very well educated—my Cousin, St. John Rivers, had been to Cambridge and his sisters were preparing to become teachers, as they were going to have to earn their livings; since their father's recent death had revealed that the family's fortunes were much depleted, due to losses on past investments.

St. John soon received an offer of a Living in _____shire, and Mary and Diana found posts at a school in the market town of B_______. I was considering a return to my school, when another letter arrived, this time from St. John; in it he said that he had heard of a post for a governess in his near vicinity and that it might be of interest to me. So, my new-found sisters and I were soon parted: they to B_______ and I to the little village of Hay, near Millcote, where St. John was now the Parson.

-xxx-

When I arrived at the George Inn in Millcote, I found my cousin waiting for me with a one-horse gig. I was pleased to see him and thanked him for coming to fetch me. He shrugged off my thanks in his customary undemonstrative way; saw to the loading of my trunk and gave me a hand up. A shake of the reins put us in motion, and we were off for Hay.

"How far is it?" I asked.

"A few miles," was his spare reply.

"What is this position like—how many children are there in the family?"

"There is only one child, a little French girl, about eight years of age."

"A French child—are these people foreign, then?"

"I know nothing about _her_ family—her Guardian owns most of the land around here. _His_ family has resided here for several hundred years."

"When does he wish to speak to me about the position?"

"I have no idea, he is not currently in residence. You are to see the Housekeeper, Mrs. Fairfax, tomorrow morning."

We were pulling up at the little Parsonage as he spoke. It was a fairly roomy-looking cottage with, as I later learned, four rooms upstairs; as well as a formal parlor, a dining room, a study/library and a small room suitable for a lady's use; for sewing, letter writing and other household matters. A back passage led to the usual offices necessary to a modern home: kitchen, scullery, larder and stillroom. All was clean and bright and well-appointed. I complimented St. John on his good taste and excellent arrangements. He shrugged and said that Mrs. Fairfax was responsible for most of the good things I saw; as she had lived here in the past and still maintained an interest in the house and its condition.

Hannah, the old servant to the Rivers family, had come South with her young master, and kept house for him. I was glad to see her and bring her up to date on the latest news from Morton.

-xxx-

Mrs. Fairfax, it seemed, was the widow of one of the previous incumbents of Hay; she was also a distant cousin of the Rochester family that owned the property. I met with her the next morning up at the Hall; she received me in her cozy parlor, and offered me a cup of tea; she read my letter of recommendation from Lowood and looked at my certificates, and professed herself to be well-pleased with what she saw.

"My dear, if your French is as good as they say it is, then you should have no difficulty with Adele. Mr. Rochester wishes to send her to school in a year or so—she is still rather young—and of course, she will need to learn English. I think that should be your primary objective with her—that, and certainly the basics of a good English education. The post is yours, if you wish it, thirty pounds per annum, room and board all found, here at the Hall, of course."

I accepted the post, to start immediately. "Thank you, Mrs. Fairfax, I am sure that I will like it here very much. Am I to see my pupil soon?"

"Of course, I believe she is out in the grounds with her nurse, Sophie. Shall we go and find them?"

I looked about me as we went outdoors: the Hall was a rather extensive place; stone-built, three stories high in some parts, battlements along the roofline; added onto over the passage of time in various styles; yet it was all a harmonious picture. I thought it rather romantic in its antiquity; I had seen little of the interior, but that seemed to be richly furnished with beautiful carpets, and fine pieces of furniture, upholstered in brilliant colors and shaded by heavy draperies against the fading of the Sun. There were crystal chandeliers and many pictures in heavy gold frames; also a number of vitrines filled with curios of all sorts. I wondered what treasures I might find in the Library, and promised myself that treat before much time had passed.

A little girl was running along the path, chasing after her shuttlecock when she stopped suddenly upon seeing us. _"Alors, ca sera ma gouvernante, je crois. Viens, Sophie!"(1) _She came up to us and gave a graceful curtsey.

I greeted her in French, "_Mais oui, je m'apelle Jane Eyre, et tu t'apelles Adele, n'est-ce pas?"(2)_

"_Bien sur, Mademoiselle Aire?--non, c'est autre chose—je ne le peux pas dire! Tant pis!"(3)_

"Adele, we will begin again—I understand that you are to learn English—is that not so?"

"Y-y-es Mademoiselle, that is what Monsieur Edouard wants."

"Then," I said firmly, "that is what we will do—you understand?"

A slight pout on her face, she nodded her head.

"Very well," I said, "you may return to your game for now—I will see you tomorrow in the schoolroom after breakfast—understood?"

She ran back to her nurse and Mrs. Fairfax and I returned to the house. She showed me the room I was to have, and I returned to the Parsonage to make arrangements for my transfer to Thornfield. St. John was in his study when I walked in the door. He called out to me before I could go upstairs. "Well, will it suit you—this position?"

"I have accepted it. It pays twice what I was receiving at Lowood and I do not believe I will have much difficulty teaching the child."

"Excellent, when are you to start?"

"I begin tomorrow—now I must make arrangements for my trunk to go up to the Hall."

"You are to _live_ there? I had not thought..."

"It seems to be expected—Mrs. Fairfax has already shown me the room I am to have."

"I am not sure if it is wise—well, no matter—just be sure to secure your door at night."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, just a piece of gossip I overheard, just do as I ask, please." He seemed a bit uneasy, but I could get nothing more out of him.

-xxx-

The next morning found me at my desk in the schoolroom at Thornfield. Adele was attentive and reasonably well-behaved. She gave me very little difficulty after the first few days. As time went by, she began to do well in her studies, and I was certain that my employer would be pleased with her progress.

(1) "Now, that will be my governess, I believe. Come, Sophie!"

"Yes, of course, my name is Jane Eyre and you are called Adele, is that not so?"

"Certainly, Miss Aire?--no that's not it—I cannot say it! Too bad!"


	2. Chapter 2 A Stranger At The Gates

**This is where things begin to happen--I hope you enjoy the ride! Please read and review, doggone it!**

A STRANGER AT THE GATES

I had now been some months at Thornfield, and was very contented. Mrs. Fairfax was kind and kept me company in the evenings when we would talk over the day's events. My pupil was improving daily in her conquest of the English language. I saw St. John on Sundays and sometimes during the week; at times we invited him to take a meal with us. I had been given the use of a pony cart and often made little excursions in the vicinity as well as errands in the village.

I had gone to Hay this afternoon in the cart to post a letter for Mrs. Fairfax. As I was leaving the Post Office, I saw a stranger sitting in the cart. As I ran to accost this bold vagabond, I realized that he and my Cousin were in conversation. I found the contrast between them very interesting; my Cousin was a tall, classically handsome young man with fair hair and blue eyes. The other man was somewhat older, dark hair and eyes, square face and build, not handsome at all—perhaps some might have called his features rough-hewn or rugged. It was not a face easily forgotten, once seen.

I greeted St. John, as I usually did in the presence of others, "Good evening Mr. Rivers."

"Good evening," was all he said.

The stranger broke in at this moment to inquire about the pony cart, "It seems that this cart comes from Thornfield Hall, does it not?"

"It does." St. John answered with his customary economy of words.

"Then, perhaps I could beg a ride up to Thornfield? Where has the driver gotten himself to?"

"The young lady standing here is in charge of the cart."

"Perhaps then, you might give me an introduction to the young lady in charge of the cart?"

St. John looked a bit grim at this, but acquiesced, "this is my Cousin, Jane Eyre—Jane, this is your employer, Edward Rochester."

I gave him my hand briefly as I said that I was pleased to meet him. I was aware that he had a look of amusement playing about his face, and I was aware that my cheeks were slightly flushed. I put it down to the air which was freshening as evening drew near. "Of course I will take you up to the Hall—it is, after all, your cart and pony."

"My thanks, Miss Eyre, I fear my horse has gone lame, and I was obliged to leave him at the smithy until he can be fetched. By the bye, I must not fail to express my extreme pleasure in making your acquaintance."

My eyebrows rose a bit at this flowery expression—I seemed to detect an underlay of sarcasm in his statement. "Oh no, sir, I can assure you that the pleasure is all mine." and here I gave him a very formal curtsey.

There was a definite quirk at the corner of his mouth, as he gave me a hand up into the cart. St. John was standing in the street, looking a bit displeased, as we bade him farewell. As we drove away, my passenger gave a whistle and a large dog came running after us. "That is Pilot," he said, "what is the pony's name? I seem to recall one named Butterscotch, but that was a long time ago." He had taken over the reins, and the pony, evidently recognizing a surer hand than mine, had picked up its pace and was going along at a good rate.

"This one may be related, John calls him Toffee."

"Mr. Rivers referred to you as my employee, what is your position?"

"I am Adele's governess."

"You seem rather young, what experience do you have?"

"I have been teaching at Lowood for the last two years."

"That is a charity school is it not? Were you educated there also?"

"Yes sir, I was there eight years in all.."

"How do you come to be here?"

"My Cousin recommended me for the position."

"A rather cozy arrangement!"

"I was glad of the change, sir, I was beginning to feel rather closed-in at Lowood."

He was silent—apparently brooding over something. "Sir, we have arrived at Thornfield." He roused himself from his ruminations and exited the cart, giving the reins over to John. He then came around and helped me down.

"Thank you for your company," he said. I will expect to see you with Mrs. Fairfax and Adele in the Drawing Room tomorrow evening."

"Yes sir."

**That's right, he didn't fall off the horse this time--I was afraid I'd get sued for damages!**


	3. Chapter 3 An Unknown Quantity

AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY

I approached the Drawing Room the next evening in an unquiet mood. I didn't know what to expect from this encounter. It was one thing to meet a new person by chance, quite another thing when it developed that the person was my employer. I had wished to make a good impression when we first met—now I was left wondering what he had thought of me. Well, I would do my best—I had put on my good black silk dress and the little pearl brooch that Miss Temple had given me—my appearance was at least neat, if not stylish—it would have to do.

Mrs. Fairfax was waiting for me in the hallway; she cast a quick glance over my toilette, and giving my collar a little twitch to straighten it, pronounced me to be correct in my turn-out. I was relieved—aware as I was of the inadequacies of my wardrobe. "You don't think that he will find my appearance wanting, do you? I only have one other good dress and I was saving it in case..." I said nervously.

She reassured me, "No, my dear, you look quite well—very appropriate to the occasion. You and I—we are not expected to be fashionable, just properly dressed. You will do—no need to fret yourself about it. Come, let us go in, before he grows impatient at the delay."

I hung back, "Is he so precise and exacting then? Will I find him hard to please?" I was becoming nervous with the anticipation of my reception.

She was both amused and a bit flustered by my dithering, "My dear, he is like most men—they like their little routine and a decent amount of respect paid to their requests. In this case, he wants to see you now, not later." With that, she opened the door and pulled me in with her. "Good evening, Sir," she said, "Here is Miss Eyre."

He was standing by the mantel-piece examining his pocket watch and comparing it to the clock on the mantel, which had just begun to chime the hour. He put his watch away and greeted us—inviting us to be seated. Adele was in the corner playing with Pilot—he looked her way as he rang the bell, "John, is my luggage come yet? It has—excellent! Please have that large package well-tied-up with twine (he demonstrated the size with his hands) brought here to the Drawing Room."

He looked at me then, "Miss Eyre, do you like presents?"

I was dumfounded at his inquiry, "Sir, I am not accustomed...nor do I expect," I stammered.

"No, of course not—I fear I phrased that badly. Adele, on the other hand, loves presents and expects one whenever she lays eyes on me. She has been badgering me with her not-too-silent anticipation ever since I came home—now that my baggage has arrived—I hope that her desire will be satisfied—until the next time, of course!"

The parcel was brought in at that point and set down. He produced a small knife from his pocket to cut the twine and then turned Adele loose on her gifts. She was overcome with delight at the beautiful things she found and could not stop exclaiming over the fully outfitted doll and the delightful pink silk dress just her size, and various other lovely things. She overwhelmed him with her thanks and kisses; until he finally assigned Mrs. Fairfax to be the recipient of her joy.

"Now, I may see to my own entertainment," said he, and with that, he took possession of his arm-chair which sat at the fireside. He cast a glance at me as he did so, "Miss Eyre, that is not where I wish you to sit—I cannot see you well—come over here—no, don't move that chair from where I placed it. Yes, that will do very well."

I found myself very much at the mercy of his penetrating stare and tried not to squirm in my discomfort, Here it came, I was about to be interrogated thoroughly. I examined my conscience and felt that I was relatively without fault. I mentally crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

He began quietly enough, "Your Cousin Rivers recommended you for this position and I have seen your references. You were at Lowood School for eight years, the last two as a teacher—correct?" I nodded. "If my mathematics are not at fault, you are now perhaps eighteen years of age?" I nodded again. "You are very silent tonight, Miss Eyre, are you always so?"

I forced myself to respond, "No sir, I think perhaps I am just nervous."

"What! Do I intimidate you to the point where you find yourself speechless? Well, we shall have to break the ice somehow. Do you play?"

"Yes sir, I play a little."

He sighed, "They all say that, every last one of them, the silly things! Well, let me hear what you can do with the pianoforte over there."

I went over to the instrument reluctantly, seated myself, and did what I could. I was soon relieved of my task. The verdict being—that it was perhaps adequate, but hardly inspired on my part—I felt to be just if not tactful. I returned to my seat.

"Well, so much for music—Adele showed me some sketches of yours this morning—are they really all your doing or did your Drawing Master give them a touch-up? Ah, you look indignant—go and fetch your portfolio then—I must see your work!"

I was not long on my errand, upon my return, I offered him the portfolio which he took closer to the light as he began to examine my pictures. "I see one person alone has done these—you say you are the artist in question?" The lump was back in my throat, I could only murmur an affirmative. "Some of these are very interesting in their subject matter," he remarked. "You seem to have read a lot of poetry, this "Likeness of a Kingly Crown", that is from Milton, is it not? And this one here reminds me of one of the Greek legends--"The Evening Star"--very lovely you have shown her to be. Your work is very good for an amateur, when did you have time for this—the detail is so painstaking that I know you must have spent hours on them."

The warmth of his praise had thawed the lump in my throat, "I did them during the vacations, my last few years at the school. I did the best I could, but they fell short of what I had imagined."

"Hmm, I see that Pride is not one of your failings—over-modesty perhaps, but not Pride. Tell me what have you read besides Milton and the Greek legends? Not Lord Byron, I hope—the man was a master of the language without a doubt, but a scandalous fellow withal."

"I could not judge a man's works by his deeds—surely they are not the same thing!"

"Perhaps not—but I can assure you that the fellow was no better than a mountebank in his behavior—titled or not, genius or no. Now, Walter Scott has been writing some very good things, have you read "Marmion" yet? No? I must lend you my copy, I think you might like it, since you seem to have a taste for the picturesque.

"We seem to have strayed away from some of the topics I had intended to cover this evening—I must complement you on the good work you have been doing with Adele; she is not a bright child, her character is too frivolous for a steady application to her studies; yet she is more improved than I had hoped. She seems to be very fond of you and yet, she obeys you without more than a token resistance.

That's excellent discipline on your part."

"Thank you, sir, but I can assure you that the credit is not all mine. Adele is a very lonely child, she will go to almost any length to please you; because she knows you are her benefactor, she is grateful to you, and does not wish to endanger your good opinion of her."

"I had not seen it that way, but I suppose you have the right of it, she certainly more than demonstrated her gratitude this evening; I fear my cravat will never recover from all those fervent hugs of hers! Ah, good—you smiled when I said that—we may yet be able to have a conversation!"

"A conversation, sir—is that your object then?"

"Yes, indeed—a period of time when we can sit down together and exchange ideas without fear of offense or disgust—we might perhaps raise our voices a bit from time to time—but only to make a point—what do you think?"

"You really want to know my opinions? Sir, I find you full of revolutionary notions—this is not what I expected at all!"

"Please say you will—I am so pleased to have discovered a young lady who can talk of more than Etudes and Embroidery."

"Very well, what shall we talk about?"

"Here now—I have not yet finished with your interview. We keep straying from the path I had planned to take tonight. I meant to ask about your family."

"That's simple enough—I have none—I'm an orphan."

"Very well—no mother, no father, no siblings: but you have a cousin in Mr. Rivers do you not?"

"Yes, of course I do, and he has two sisters in B________, they are teachers at a school there. But I have not known them long as I never knew about them until I was thinking of leaving Lowood."

"Hmm, who did you live with before you went to school?"

"Some relatives of my Mother, but when my Uncle died, they made my life so miserable that Lowood was a Paradise in comparison. We never correspond, and when I reached eighteen, my Aunt indicated that she wanted nothing more to do with me."

"That's a bit strong, just to toss you aside like that—why would she have behaved so?"

"Perhaps because I have no money, and she didn't like me—they were truly very unpleasant people and I would rather not speak of them further."

"Yes—there's no choosing one's family—there they are, and there's not much to be done about it. On the other hand, a friend is a personal choice—a kindred spirit perhaps. Well time will tell the truth of the matter..."

"Speaking of time, sir, the clock shows it to be past Adele's bedtime—I must go see to her."

"I believe you will have to wait a few more minutes—she has gone to try her new frock—we shall have to stay here for the grand entrance of Mlle. Varens...yes, I believe I hear her coming this way...be prepared for an elegant young lady!"

Adele came tripping in—doing a sort of ballet—with much twirling and flouncing of ribbons and petticoats. She did look very elegant in her little Paris gown, and was most graceful in her motions. She came to a stop in front of Mr. Rochester—sinking to the floor in a deep curtsey. She rose up in a profusion of thanks, which he received with the suggestion that it was late and she should go to bed soon. She obeyed him—retreating to the door without protest—seeming to accept his response as the usual thing.

I was at the door to accompany her, when he spoke once more, "I see you do not understand my treatment of that child. I will tell you more one of these days. For now, Good Night, Miss Eyre."

"Good Night sir," and I succeeded in making my escape.

-xxx-

After they had gone out the door, I turned to Mrs. Fairfax, who had not yet left the room. "Alice," I said, "What was the matter with that little girl—she was a bundle of nerves almost the whole time I was talking to her?"

Mrs. Fairfax cleared her throat and fumbled with her spectacles, "Truly, sir, I think it is just that she is not used to speaking with gentlemen she doesn't know—and you can be rather intimidating in your manner to those who don't know you."

"You don't find me intimidating then."

"Not as a general rule, sir—I have known you for a longer time and it was very kind of you to help me when I lost my husband." It was here that her voice faltered and she pulled out her handkerchief, "I don't know what would have become of me..."

"We are family, Alice—that is all that matters in the end—it was an obligation that I was glad to honor in your case. You have taken very good care of the house, I find it to be comfortable, and well-run under your care. I could hardly ask for more than that. Thank you for your hard work and Good Night, and for Heaven's sake, tell Miss Eyre that I may growl but I don't bite!"

"Thank you Mr. Edward, I will tell her, Good Night sir."

-xxx-

I had not gone upstairs when I left the Drawing Room and my Inquisitor—I had gone instead to Mrs. Fairfax's parlor when I awaited her return with my nerves still curiously on edge. I could not understand what it was—it was as though there was a sort of aura of energy around him—it totally disconcerted me—I hoped at least that I had not left a bad impression.

She came in after a few minutes, "My dear, you're still up! Shall we have some tea before we turn in?"

"Yes please, that would be very pleasant—how do you think it went? I was so nervous, and he seems to be very particular about things, and I want to do well..."

"My dear, I think you did quite well, given the circumstances—I am to tell you that his bark is worse that his bite and that he doesn't bite."

"What?"

"I believe that you will discover that he has quite a strong sense of humor—also I have seldom if never, known him to do or say a really ill-natured thing. Usually he is very generous and kind in his dealings with people, but you will see that with time, I am sure. Here is your tea, drink it up and then go rest—Tomorrow will soon be here."


	4. Chapter 4 The French Poppet

**A/N--I hope you are enjoying the ride. This is where we learn more about Adele. Please read and REVIEW! (I know you're out there!)**

THE FRENCH POPPET

Events at Thornfield ran in a livelier course after the Master's return. There were more comings and goings as the gentlemen of the neighborhood paid their calls, Mr. Rochester was often invited out to the various functions hosted by his neighbors and now was beginning to return their hospitality with some dinners at Thornfield. He had been going over plans with his Agent and had put some men to work at repairs and improvements around the house and grounds.

Mrs. Fairfax seemed pleased to see him taking an interest in the running of the Estate. She explained that he had spent so little time at the Hall in the last few years that she had begun to think he might be planning to close the house entirely—leaving it with only a caretaker, instead of a staff. "It is such a loss to the area when a house such as this is not lived in by the family. Inevitably there is less prosperity because of the lack of employment opportunity and then there is the loss of custom to the village when there are no purchases to be made, no horses to be shod, no visitors to the inn..."

"Yet you have kept the house so well, Mrs. Fairfax—quite as if he were always here in residence."

"Well, he seemed to prefer it so—I had noticed that it put him out to have a grand bustle made whenever he came home—so I felt that it would be better to keep the main part of the house in readiness for him. He is fortunate also in having a very conscientious Agent—Mr. Burroughs has been very good with settling the tenants' problems—but there is no substitute for the owner's presence in some of these matters."

Adele came up to me just then, all dressed to go outdoors, "Oh Mlle. Jeannette, you are not prepared for the garden and I so wish to go outside!"

"I am sorry, Adele—call Sophie to go with you and I will follow shortly." Off she ran, and I went to find my bonnet and pelisse. I was on my way out the door when I met Mr. Rochester coming in.

He raised an eyebrow at seeing me and asked, "Were you on your way somewhere, Miss Eyre?"

"No sir, just to the garden with Adele—she is already out there with Sophie."

"I think I will join you then, it is a pleasant afternoon—there was something I wished to talk to you about and Adele will hardly miss you with Sophie to entertain her." I fell into step with him and we paced for awhile on the terrace which overlooked the grassy area where Adele and Sophie were tossing a ball back and forth.

"I promised to tell you more about Adele," said he. "You must know that my life has not always been an example of correct behavior. I have made some mistakes in the Past—some larger than others—but I try always to live up to my responsibilities—no matter how they were acquired. Adele's mother and I...we were _very_ good friends once..." Here he sighed and paused for a moment before continuing, "I was such a green fool then—and she was very charming—but I am dodging the issue, am I not?"

He cleared his throat and went on, "To state the matter clearly—Celine Varens was an Opera dancer whom I had under my protection for a while. I was totally enthralled by her—couldn't get enough of her—showered her with all the gewgaws she could wish for and, in short, made an idiot out of myself over her. It came to a crashing end one night when I paid her an unexpected call and discovered her with another gentleman—both of them in a state of nature—and in what might be referred to as a classical pose. When I expressed my dismay at this discovery—the shameless jade invited me to join them in their romp! (Forgive me, I shouldn't have told you that!)

"Of course, my infatuation expired at that moment and on the spot. I gave Celine her walking papers and paid her off. I gave the gentleman my glove across his face and made a dawn appointment with him for the Bois de Boulogne—he got off easier than he deserved—I satisfied myself with leaving a bullet in his shoulder." He fell silent and we paced on for a while.

Finally I spoke up, "You were going to tell me about Adele."

"Ah yes, Adele—well—she is Celine's daughter, of course."

"Of course," I echoed him, "And her father...?"

"The father? Well, Celine claimed that I had the honor—but in the light of later discoveries and the basic applications of science and mathematics—I rather doubt it. She is nothing like me at all—and dismayingly like her mother in far too many ways!"

"So, if that's how things are—then why do you have Adele here?"

"These things always start small and grow into unforeseen complications, don't they? Despite a lack of certainty over Adele's origins—I had, from the first, kept an eye to her living arrangements. Over the years, I became more and more concerned about what might lie ahead for her. Meanwhile, Celine had run off to Italy with a musician, leaving Adele behind in Paris. When I heard that Celine was dead in an epidemic; I realized that I was the only person who was taking an interest in the child, so I brought her here. I intend her to have an education and then later on, provide her with enough of a dowry to get her decently married off."

"That's a very generous thing to do, all things considered."

"It's not the child's fault, after all—I saw no reason for her to follow her mother's path for lack of someone to take an interest in her future."

"You thought it likely that she would do as her mother did—become an Opera-dancer?"

"There was every likelihood of such a thing—after all, Opera-dancers and the rest of the Demi-Monde have to come from somewhere. Pretty girls with no money and no one to care haven't many choices open to them. Now that you know about Adele, perhaps you will no longer wish to teach her. Perhaps you will think yourself contaminated by the association and wish to tender your resignation and seek a new post elsewhere?"

"I think not, I am fond of the child—she is sweet, affectionate and very lonely—she tries very hard to please—I could not abandon her for such a reason as that."

"Are you that way with all your friends—so steadfast and loyal?"

"I would be that way with anyone who was deserving of my interest and concern."

He started to say something more, but was interrupted by John, who came up with a message for him. He took his leave of me and went off on some business matter, while I stayed out a while longer and played games with Sophie and Adele.

I thought about what he had told me about Adele's background and felt I now understood her better. We were both orphans, standing by ourselves, without parents to protect us from life's storms. She was fortunate to have, at least, someone who would see to her safety and welfare.

-xxx-

I had just come into our maison with my nursemaid, Claudine, when Maman called me to her side. "Alors, ma petite, M. Edouard has called and wishes to greet you, go and make your curtsey to him."

I was always happy to see M. de Rochester—as he usually had a smile for me and sometimes a little present. It was true that he was English, but I never thought about it as his speech and appearance were like everyone else's. I ran to him, and there he was as always, with his gruff greeting and special smile--"Eh, Adele—you are grown so much—can this be the same little girl I saw a few months ago? No—this must be some other child—also named Adele, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oh no, Monsieur, I can assure you that I am the same Adele you saw before."

"That is as well, since I had brought something special for _that_ Adele."

"Oh, had you indeed? I am certain it will be a nice thing!"

It was bonbons this time, and I liked them very much and thanked him for his bounty. Maman then had me to recite a little poem she had taught me—my performance was well received and I retired with applause.

Maman had many friends and there were often parties where I was allowed to be present and sometimes to show what I had learned from Maman. She was such a clever teacher—I remember the dance she showed me how to perform where she was a beautiful flower and I was a little butterfly trying to steal a kiss from the flower. There was much applause for that one—even M. le Vicomte who went about with one arm in a sling--(it was said that he had been wounded in a duel)--clapped for my performance with Maman!

But then Maman went away for a vacation with M. Contini and left me with Madame Frederic and after a while when there were no more letters from Maman, M. Edouard came to see me. He talked with Mme. Frederic for a bit and then he asked me if I would like to go to England with him and live in his house with him. He told me that Maman had gone to Heaven with the angels and that she would be watching over me even though I could not see her.

Oh, how sad I was when he told me this—it was one thing to miss Maman, but to know that I would never see her again—that was very hard! I cried a great deal—he put his arms around me, and I think he cried too! In the end, I agreed to go to England with him.

It is very cold here in England and I miss Paris; Sophie, my new nursemaid, is very nice; but I am lonely without M. Edouard—for he has gone away again. There is something strange in this house, sometimes I hear someone laughing in a very odd manner; but they claim that it is only a woman servant called Poole. I am not sure what to think, because yesterday my book of Fables was not where I left it and Sophie and I searched without finding it. This morning it was in the hallway on a window sill. Sophie says that we will lock the nursery door at night, just to be safe.

I am to learn English and then I can go to school and be with other girls. That will be a good thing—they say that I am to have a teacher soon—I hope we like each other.

My teacher has come—she is young and very good to me—Mlle. Jeannette speaks French as well as M. Edouard. I am learning a lot of new things. Arithmetic is very interesting—it is so logical, and then there is scientific study. There are so many things outdoors to look at and think about—I never knew there could be so many kinds of plants and animals! I am learning verses and stories in English now and she has begun to show me how to play the pianoforte. I am happy now, even though M. Edouard is not here!

M. de Rochester has returned and brought me many beautiful things. I love my new dress—I hope we have a party soon so that I can wear it! I still miss Maman, but I see her in my dreams and I am content.

**So, there is Adele--our little French butterfly--I hope you liked her.**


	5. Chapter 5 The Charms Of Literature

**A/N This chapter is designed to show the progress of their relationship. Jane is now more at ease--Mr.R is still trying to take her measure. ****The books mentioned were all popular at this time.**

THE CHARMS OF LITERATURE

What an inclement day it was! The wind was gusting strongly around the house, driving the snow before it. The temperature was just at that uncomfortable point where the chilly result is neither snow nor rain. I was glad that I could stay inside and view it through the window glass. There was frost on the window and I amused myself with drawing little faces in it. I thought of them as little frost elves come to peep in at our goings-on.

The morning lessons were over and we had eaten our luncheon—Adele was with Sophie, and I was free to follow my fancies. After a while, I decided to read the little book that I had found in the Library. It fascinated me with its little pictures and verses—really some of them were so odd—I had never before seen anything quite like it. There was a sweet one about a lamb, and later on—one about a tiger—truly amazing in its imagery.

I could no longer resist the impulse—I fetched my sketching materials and began to draw a wonderful picture of elves petting a tiger. I was working away—totally absorbed in my creation, when a shadow fell across the page where I was working. I looked up—Mr. Rochester was trying to see my picture. "No, no," I protested, "It's not finished—you can't look until it's done!"

"Oh please let me have just one little peep—who knows—I might like to have it for my collection!"

"You are being nonsensical, sir; it is only a little pastime—nothing more!"

He smiled, "I beg to differ, anything that requires so much time and application must, needs be; a thing of importance, not a mere trifle."

"Very well, you have wheedled your way to a private viewing—there--does it meet with your approval?"

"This is charming—what could have inspired you?"

I showed him the little book (1). He took it and studied it for a few minutes.

"I had forgotten about this—you liked it then?"

"I thought some of the ideas were very original."

"William Blake was an unusual fellow—truly. I begin to believe that poets must be not wholly of this world—to judge from their views of things!"

"As I recall, you do not approve of Lord Byron, yet you praised Walter Scott the other night."

"So I did—do you disagree?"

"I looked into the copy of 'Marmion' (2) that you lent me and I was amazed at the goings-on. Such a thorough-going villain as he made Lord Marmion out to be! Surely Lord Byron's Corsair (3), Conrad, was no worse a person than he!"

"Aha! You _have_ read Byron!"

"Certainly, I have; there was a copy that passed all around Lowood—we would take turns reading it to each other and could hardly wait for the next adventure to take place!"

"Schoolgirls giggling to each other in the middle of the night with but a single candle to light their revels! Had you no shame for those guilty pleasures?"

"Nonsense! We read it out in the yard, at recreation time—for one thing, the light was better!"

He chuckled at my rejoinder, "I see I will have to revise my ideas of how things are done at such places as Lowood. Imagine them allowing such a diversion!"

"We hid the book inside a copy of 'The Pilgrim's Progress' (4), sir. As long as they thought it an improving work—there was no objection to our activity."

He actually laughed when I told him of our stratagem, "You young ladies are too clever for your own good!" He said this as he wiped his eyes. "There were many pranks that we young fellows got up to at School, but yours is excellent for its subtlety and simplicity of execution. My compliments to you and your schoolmates for misbehavior with the appearance of virtue—an ideal that is seldom achieved!"

"I am not certain that you meant a compliment by that remark. It was an underhanded thing for us to have done, even if we did enjoy it!"

"I thought that you denied it being a 'guilty pleasure'."

"No, I meant that we did not read it in the middle of the night—after all, we would be tired and would wish nothing more than sleep—not lurid tales of dubious deeds which would keep us up with bad dreams!"

"Tsk, Miss Eyre, I think you 'doth protest too much'! I think you enjoyed the excitement of it all! Have you a liking for Gothic tales? I shall have to look you out some, I believe there is an old copy of the 'Castle of Otranto' (5) somewhere about; or if that will not suit, I think I could locate something by Mrs. Radcliffe."

"Give over, do! I am not so fond of imaginary horrors as you seem to think. I will brandish my other book at you and then you will know true repentance for your teasing me!"

"Oho!--what have you got there?"

"Something that should make you shake in your shoes! See for yourself!"

"'A Vindication of the Rights of Women' (6)--Good Heavens, and you have accused _me_ of revolutionary ideas! I believe you are a radical thinker, Miss Eyre—what have you to say to that?"

"I will concede you the point, sir. Now you must excuse me, I have tomorrow's lessons to prepare." With that, I gathered up my books and papers and took my leave. Such a stimulating conversation as we had just had—I had found it most enjoyable. I looked forward to more of the same discussions.

It was curious that I felt so much more at ease with him than I had at the beginning. I recalled the awkward feelings I had experienced in our first formal interview. At that time, he had said that his object was conversation. We had now had several occasions to talk together, each one more interesting that the last. I wondered at the feelings I had—something like friendship—but stronger than mere amity. _"When the day comes that I must leave this place—it will be very hard for me to go!"_

He watched her as she left the Gallery--"_You little Pixie, what a challenge you are!"--_he thought_. "What shall we talk about next time?—I can hardly wait!"_

(1) William Blake, "Songs of Innocence and of Experience", 1794.

Sir Walter Scott, "Marmion", 1808.

George Gordon, Lord Byron, "The Corsair", 1814.

John Bunyan, "The Pilgrim's Progress", 1678.

Horace Walpole, "The Castle of Otranto", 1764.

Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, "A Vindication of the Rights of Women", 1792.

**I promise that the next chapter will deal with the fire. Please read and REVIEW--thank you.**


	6. Chapter 6 Fairly Warming

**A/N I promised you the bedroom fire scene--here 'tis, just not quite the same way.**

FAIRLY WARMING

I had been sound asleep when the noise woke me. I was confused—what had I heard? It didn't seem to match the pleasant dream I had been having about a picnic in a meadow where a white horse was grazing among the wildflowers. There it was again—that strange laugh I had heard many times before. It usually came from upstairs, but this time I was certain that whoever it was that laughed must be just outside in the hallway.

Then there was a sound which chilled me to the bone. Somebody was at my door—trying the latch. Fortunately, I had bolted my door before I went to bed—at least I thought I had. I huddled under my covers—shivering with fear. Thank goodness, whoever it was was leaving—I heard steps going away down the hall. I was so afraid, I couldn't stay alone any more. I would go to Mrs. Fairfax. I got up, wrapped myself in a shawl, and opened the door to the hallway.

What was that smell? Like smoke!--and indeed the air was hazy—where could it be coming from? Good heavens! It was coming from Mr. Rochester's room! I ran down the hall and pushed the door open—his bed was on fire, and he was still asleep in the middle of the flames!

I grabbed his shoulder and shook him—I called out, "Get up, get up, there's a fire!" There was no response—the smoke had stupefied him perhaps. I seized the water pitcher—it was full of water and the basin also. I threw the water on the fire and and then ran back to my room for more. When I returned with the second pitcher, he was starting to wake up—very confused at the state he found himself in.

He cried out, "What the devil is the matter? Is there a leak in the roof? Is that a fire? Fire! Who's there—what are you doing?"

"It is I, sir, your bed is on fire. Do get up—please do!"

"Miss Eyre—what have you been doing?"

"I have been trying to put out this fire of yours," I said as I tossed more water on the burning bed hangings.

He suddenly took stock of the goings-on and and joined me in extinguishing the last of the flames. He then located his dressing gown, and putting it on, turned to me. "What do you know about this? Here, sit down—wrap yourself up in my cloak, you're shaking with cold."

"I was asleep when a strange noise woke me up. Someone was laughing in the corridor, and then they tried to open my door, but I had bolted it when I went to bed last night."

"Do you always do that?"

"Yes, when my cousin realized that I would be staying in the house, he told me to be sure to do so."

"Did he give a reason for this request of his?"

"No sir, he just said that he had heard something that made him think it a wise thing to do."

"Hmm—well, when you opened your door tonight what did you see?"

"Just the smoke from the fire, sir."

"You didn't see anyone about?"

"No one at all. Please, who was that person who was laughing? Was it Grace Poole? She's so odd in her behavior, I don't understand her at all!"

"I will go now, to investigate this incident. I want you to stay here until I return—are you warm enough?"

"Yes sir, the cloak is very warm."

"Good—stay here quietly—I should not be gone very long." He went out, leaving the door ajar.

I sat back in the chair, drawing my feet up under me—his cloak was very warm—it smelled of him—horses and tobacco and something more—something that was his alone. My eyes closed...opened...closed...

Someone was carrying me, I was tucked into bed—a gentle touch on my cheek—a soft murmur in my ear, "Good night, my little heroine, you saved my life—I won't forget." The door closed—I fell back into slumber.

--xxx--

Leah knocked on my door the next morning. "Miss, are you up yet? Master wants to see you in the Library before he leaves."

I hurried to finish my toilette—for some reason, I was tired of all the black and grey gowns I had been accustomed to wearing. I had a lilac dress, I would wear that for a change. I rushed downstairs as soon as I had finished dressing.

I knocked on the door to the Library, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

He was sitting at his desk, he rose when I came in and showed me to a seat, then resumed his own chair at the desk. "I wanted to thank you for your swift actions last night—things might have gone very badly if it were not for your courageous response."

"Oh, Sir, it was really nothing—it was just what anyone would have done."

"Perhaps, but it matters to me very much that _you_ were the one who saved my life. I will not soon forget what you did for me. Something we never got around to discussing last night—I have let it be thought that I was the one who discovered the fire and extinguished it. I told them that I had been reading in bed and that the candle had started the fire. I don't want anyone to know of your involvement—do you understand?

"Yes, Sir, I will say nothing, if that is what you wish."

"Believe me, it is better so. I will bid you farewell for the time being, I am invited to a house party at 'The Leas', I expect to be gone for awhile, we may talk further when I return."

"Very well, sir—I will go see about Adele's lessons now."

--xxx--

He sat at his desk a few minutes longer—she had looked very pretty this morning—in a dress that had some color to it. He liked colors—preferably strong, bright colors—how would Jane look in pink? Lost in the pleasant reverie, he mused on—Sam came to the door, "Master, the carriage is ready." He rose with a sigh as his daydream vanished back into thin air—now, for some strategy; the house party had given him an idea.

--xxx--

I left Mr. Rochester, and went in search of Breakfast, and Adele; the day was beginning and I was a bit behindhand in dealing with my tasks. As I went I thought about what had happened last night. He had not really satisfied my curiosity, but I could learn nothing further from him until his return. I might as well go about my business. I found Adele in the midst of eating her Breakfast. She was eating toast with strawberry jam—her bowl of porridge was pushed to one side, congealing in neglect. I scolded her, "Adele, you know well that the porridge must be eaten before it gets cold!"

"Oh, Mlle. Jeannette, you know I do not care for that horrid stuff!"

"Nonsense, it's good for you—eat!"

She poked out her lower lip rebelliously, but gave way when I promised her a story about porridge. So, between spoonfuls, I told her the story about a family of three bears (1) whose domestic tranquility was upset when they discovered an uninvited guest—a naughty little girl--who walked into their home one day and sampled their porridge, and even took the liberty of sitting in their chairs, and sleeping in their beds! She soon finished her cereal, and we went on to our lessons.

(1) The Three Bears—old folk tale published in 1837 by Robert Southey.

**Next up will be the house party--things will soon become more interesting--trust me! Meanwhile read and REVIEW--pleeze--I know you're out there--if you didn't like it--you can tell me--I'm a big girl now.**


	7. Chapter 7 Fish and Company

**A/N Here begins the infamous house party--I'm not going to take up a lot of time describing these people--you already know who they are.**

FISH AND COMPANY

Mr. Rochester was gone for a fortnight, when Mrs. Fairfax received a letter from him. The household was galvanized with excitement. Not only was he returning soon—he was bringing the house party guests with him. Mrs. Fairfax was consumed with a myriad of things that needed to be accomplished before the Gentry darkened our doors. There was an immense amount of cleaning; sorting of linens and washing of same; rearranging of furniture; and in the kitchens, a continual clamor as supplies were brought in and the food preparation began. There were new servants, of course, to help with all that needed doing. All our peace was at an end—all the bustling of the preparations made Adele quite giddy and I had a great deal of trouble getting her attention.

We finally gave in to the general excitement pervading the Hall and found employment in the many necessary tasks. Adele did a great deal of fetching and carrying, and she and Sophie showed a decided flair for flower arranging. I found myself busy in the kitchen, helping to make some of the pastries that would be wanted for Dinner desserts and Teatime treats. There were also the place cards to make out for the meals—Breakfast and Luncheon were to be informal—but Dinner required formality and that meant assigned seating. There were the names: Ingram, Eshton, Lynn, Dent—I wondered what these people would be like—would they be amiable or haughty?--would the young men be gallant and handsome and the young ladies sweet and maidenly?--who could tell?--the answers would be known soon enough.

All too soon the day came when they arrived in a clatter of carriages and horses. Bonnets and feathers, veils and shawls, an excited twitter reminiscent of the birds' morning calls—those were the ladies. The gentlemen were more subdued in their dress—surely the opposite of Nature where the males had the brighter, showier plumage and the females were kept quietly guarding the nest.

Adele and I had just come in from a morning spent in the Garden—she had captured a handsome specimen of a frog which she wished to show Mrs. Fairfax. We were about to ask for a container for Mr. Frog when John called out that the cavalcade had been sighted. Everything was forgotten in the rush to the windows; and indeed, the first signs of their arrival were apparent. I pulled Adele back from the window she had been half hanging out of in her excitement—I reminded her that we were behind in our studies. She pouted, but obeyed when I reminded her that Mr. Rochester would be displeased at any sign of bad behavior on her part. She expressed a desire to see the ladies and show off some of her accomplishments. I told her that we could not go downstairs unless we were invited to do so. There was another pout, but she could see that she had nothing to gain by misbehaving—and everything to lose if she persisted. With a great sigh, she finally settled down to her sums.

Meanwhile, downstairs we could hear the bustle and commotion as they came into the Hall and chattered over refreshing cups of tea and draughts of ale while the luggage was brought in and properly distributed. I heard Mr. Rochester's voice now and then in the midst of the exclamations and conversation. It seemed to be a different place when he was at home—somehow the life went out of the place when he was absent.

Mrs. Fairfax had a message for me the next morning: Adele and I were to be present in the Drawing Room after Dinner that evening. I had no wish to be there, but when I expressed my preference to be absent, I was informed that Mr. Rochester had specified that I was to be present. I dreaded the whole business—I had no wish to mingle with Society—I was too conscious of my own inadequacies to feel comfortable in a room full of London belles and young Dandies who would be accompanied by their haughty, overbearing Mothers and overly hearty Fathers. There was to be no escape—he had said that if I did not present myself—he would himself come and fetch me.

I dreaded the evening to come; but nonetheless put a good face on things, I wore my best dress—the grey silk that I had had made up for Miss Temple's wedding—Adele was radiant in the new frock that she had been given upon Mr. Rochester's return from the Continent. We went downstairs before the Ladies rose from the Dinner table and took our seats in the Drawing Room. I had a bit of fancy work to occupy me while Adele looked at a picture book.

All too soon, they were upon us—a bright, chattering flock of finery and feathered headdresses—Adele immediately rose to greet them and was absorbed into their midst, accepted as a sort of novelty to be appreciated for its entertainment value. I, however, was content to stay in my quiet corner and observe the goings-on, while my presence was being ignored by the company.

The gentlemen came in soon after, borne upon a wave of laughter and a hint of cigar smoke. I saw him come into the room although I was not looking for him. He was very much the good host that evening—genial and smiling at something one of the other men had said to him. One of the young ladies went to the pianoforte to play and some of them began to sing.

Soon one of the young ladies (it was Miss Ingram) went to Mr. Rochester and begged him for a song. He obliged with an old ballad of love and war which was well received by all. I had never heard him sing before and was amazed at my reaction. For a moment—it was as though he and I were the only people in that room—and the words he sang were for me alone to hear.

"Oh young Lochinvar is come out of the west,

Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;

And save his good broadsword he weapon had none;

He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar..." (1)

So it went until Lochinvar rode off with his stolen bride, in the teeth of all opposition, into the land of "Happily Ever After". The spell was broken when one of the dowagers made a slighting remark about Governesses with a significant glance in my direction, and her companion tried to hush her with a reminder that I was present and undoubtedly had heard her comment. She tossed her turbaned and feathered head and said that she hoped it would do me good to hear the truth about myself. My enjoyment of the evening was at an end. In the general bustle as some of the group dispersed from the piano, I took advantage of the opportunity to withdraw.

It seemed that my retreat had not gone unnoticed, Mr. Rochester had come out of the Drawing Room and almost before I had set foot on the stairs, he summoned me to follow him to the Library. I went reluctantly—I knew I should not have gone from the room so early, but I had had all I could take for the evening in terms of my feelings—it was hard to be ignored in a corner—even harder to be insulted when I had done nothing to merit the ill treatment.

He had started to say something when he noticed my expression—he paused, seeming to study my face. "What's the matter with you?" he asked, "You don't look very well—have you been ill while I was gone?" I shook my head in the negative—I couldn't trust my voice at this point. "Come now, tell me what is wrong—you look as though you might be about to cry."

I shook my head again and moved away from him towards the bookshelves. He followed me, "Jane, I can tell that something is the matter—won't you tell me what it is? Do I have to drag it out of you, syllable by syllable?" His relentless pursuit of the matter was most upsetting—I was about to disgrace myself by blurting it all out—everything I had felt and suffered—all my sentiments laid bare—when I was saved. There was a tentative knock on the Library door—John was there, with a message for Mr. Rochester.

"Very well, I'll see to it in a minute," my master said, dismissing John to his duties. He turned back to me and said, "We''ll talk tomorrow. For now, you look tired—you should rest—have Sophie fetch Adele—it's definitely past her bed time. I want you to know that I heard what Lady Ingram said about Governesses and I think it was very unjust of her to say that; but there's not much one can do about that sort of rudeness except to ignore it."

-xxx-

I stood there watching her as she left the room—something was wrong with her—she seemed to be tired and depressed. I began to wonder if I had done the right thing by bringing these people here. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; especially to use a flirtation with Blanche as a diversion—a sort of screen for my true feelings. I had hoped for a show of jealousy from Jane, but that was not what I was seeing. I had miscalculated somewhere.

Well, I had other concerns at the minute—Mrs. Poole had asked to speak to me. I would have to see to my incubus. This was certainly not the time for one of those outbreaks which, though infrequent, were always to be dreaded. I hoped we could keep a lid on Pandora's Box of troubles, at least for the time being.

(1) " Lochinvar" from "Marmion" by Sir Walter Scott.

**He put his foot in it didn't he? Odd how we always hurt the one we love. More party next chapter--fortunes will be told!**


	8. Chapter 8 A Surfeit of Society

**A/N ** **Welcome to the gypsy scene--so far I haven't gone too far off the rails of the original--just you wait!**

A SURFEIT OF SOCIETY

He did try to speak to me the next day, but it was impossible as his attention was constantly being called to his guests and their entertainment. I was still required to be in the Drawing Room in the evenings, but it seemed that Lady Ingram's interest had shifted from me to the interesting picture made by her daughter Blanche, and Mr. Rochester as the young lady returned his smiles and encouraged his compliments. It was an odd sort of courtship, if courtship was what it was; he didn't really seem involved with what he was saying and doing. It was almost as if he was acting a part in a play.

Certainly he was attentive to her, but something was lacking in his expression when he smiled or spoke to her. Nonetheless, it seemed likely that he would marry her—she was the most suitable in terms of rank, being the daughter of the late Baron Ingram, Mrs. Fairfax had said that the family was not as wealthy as formerly; and Miss Ingram was now twenty-five, and in danger of spinsterhood if she did not marry soon.

They all went out on picnics and excursions; when it rained they played at Charades, and danced, and played card games. Mr. Rochester had to go away on business one rainy day—everyone seemed bored in his absence. Miss Ingram moped about over a book which I doubted she was actually reading; the older ladies were involved in a game of Whist; the other young ladies were practicing their music and embroidery; while occasional conversation and laughter was heard from the Billiards Room where the young men had congregated; the older gentlemen were to be found in the Library where they could smoke and share the latest County news.

Adele ran up to me and said that there was a carriage arriving; she was sure that it was Mr. Rochester returning; there was a general stir in the room, and Miss Ingram went to the window overlooking the courtyard to see what was occurring. She drew back into the room, saying that it was a stranger, not Mr. Rochester, and gave Adele a look of disdain.

Sam was soon at the door to say that there was a gentleman just arrived, an old acquaintance of Mr. Rochester's, and since his friend was not present to introduce him; he would beg the indulgence of the guests to receive him. The ladies agreed to this and the other gentlemen, who had left the Library for the Drawing Room on hearing of the new arrival, were in agreement also.

So it was that Mr. Richard Mason joined the company there assembled. It seemed that he had known Mr. Rochester for a long time; having met him in Jamaica when they were both young men. I noticed that he seemed to feel the cold—even though he was in the house, he had retained his fur-lined cloak and kept it wrapped about him as he sat by the fireside. In appearance, he was handsome enough and well-dressed; but there was something about him that struck me as being a trifle "off". I could not discern what it was precisely that disturbed me, I just felt somehow uneasy about him.

Soon, there was another distraction as Sam came to say that there was a Fortune-teller who had come to the door, offering to read the Tarot and reveal the future to those who were interested. The young people were particularly enthralled at the notion as a previous plan to visit the Gypsy Camp nearby had been cancelled, due to the rain. Sam was sent to see what the Sibyl's requirements might be; he soon returned to say that the old woman would see only the young unmarried ladies; and those only one at a time; and that she was now installed in the Library, awaiting the pleasure of the Company.

Miss Ingram was quick to seize the opportunity, and put herself forward despite her Mother's nervous objections. Some time passed before she returned, and when she came back there was a frown on her face and she turned aside the eager questions that were being put to her as to her fortune and what the Gypsy was like. She seated herself in silence and refused all conversation.

Meanwhile the other young ladies had entreated Sam to petition in their behalf that they be allowed to visit in a group rather than singly. They at last received a positive answer to their request and skipped out the door in their eagerness to know what they might expect in the coming time. They were not gone as long as Miss Ingram and they too, returned a bit subdued, yet full of chatter about their mutual experience. It was generally agreed amongst them that this was a person of extraordinary powers; for _everything the old woman had told them was true;_ they found themselves much amazed by her clairvoyant abilities.

It seemed that she not only knew what their favorite things were: novels, colors, music; but also she had told each one of them _who_ her favorite person was—a matter that the young men expressed an immediate wish to know—but their inquiries were turned aside with blushes and giggles from the young ladies, who refused to answer their importunings.

I became aware that Sam had returned to the Drawing Room and that he was trying to get my attention. He told me that the Gypsy had insisted that there was still a young lady who had not been in to have her fortune told; he had decided that I must be the person in question. I had been full of curiosity about this exotic visitor and was very pleased to have the opportunity to see for myself what a Fortune teller was like. I, therefore, rose and made my way to the Library.

That room resembled a book-lined cave this evening, being almost in darkness saving only the firelight on the hearth. The old woman was seated by the fire apparently trying to make out the words in a little book that she was holding close to the light from the flames. At my entrance, she glanced up and then indicated that I should come closer with a gesture. Such a strange creature as she seemed to be—all shawls and elf-locks peeping out of her old-fashioned bonnet which was tied down with a scarf which nearly eclipsed her face. Indeed, her face was in the shadow, though she sat so close to the light.

She pointed to a place before her, on the hearth-rug, and told me to kneel there, so that she could see my face. Filled with curiosity, I obeyed her directions. She said nothing more for a while, being content apparently to meditate upon her mysteries while she studied me. I became restless after a bit as the fire was hotter than I liked. She spoke finally--"You are a most extraordinary young lady, little Miss—have you no wish to know your fortune? You ask me no questions—is there nothing you wish to know?"

I spoke in my turn, "The fire is too hot—I am not comfortable. As for knowing my future—you expressed a wish for me to come here—presumably so that you could tell it to me."

I was justly scolded, "Impertinent! I knew it would be so when I looked at you! But, you have not paid me yet!"

I sighed, pulled out my purse, and held out a penny. "Put it there on the table," said she, "Now, as to the method: show me your hand--no that will not do, the lines are so small and fine I can scarcely make them out. Well, we shall see what the cards say--pick up the pack there and do as I tell you." I did so reluctantly—the cards were very old and greasy. She directed me to cut the pack several times and then to lay the cards out in a certain pattern. I followed her instructions.

She peered intently at the pattern the cards made—picked one or two of them up and studied them closely, and then sat back in the chair to made her pronouncements. "There is something you want very much; if you had it, your life would be completely different; but you do nothing towards achieving it. You are too passive—you should act with more decision, be bolder to seek your objective. See, here is the Queen of Hearts, and here is her King, but between them I see the Jester and the Knave—and here I see a journey beset with troubles—yet all may come right in the end."

By now, I had become a bit suspicious of this seeming Fortune-teller. Something about her was wrong—her speech was not that of an ignorant country woman. I assessed her appearance, the face that kept to the shade, the bulk and size of her, and—the ring on her finger! I had seen that ring many times before this—it belonged to Mr. Rochester! I went on the attack—I had been told that I should be bold—very well, I could follow instruction as well as the next person. "Now," said I, "We shall see a thing or two! Either you are a thief or—you are Mr. Rochester! Which is it?"

There was a sputter of laughter from the chair's occupant, "I am unmasked indeed, you little witch! How did you do it?" With that, he stood, and began shedding shawls, scarves and various articles of disguise until he appeared in his usual garb. I stood at a safe distance from the disturbance, until I seemed to be free of the threatened encumbrances of the "Gypsy's" wrappings. He came towards me still chuckling, and threatened to put the old hat on my head, but I stared him down.

"I am most annoyed with you, sir! You have presented yourself under false pretenses and have been making game of us all."

"Not of you—I can assure you that what I saw in your cards was true—every word of it!"

"I take leave to doubt it—there is no truth in you—I am certain of that!"

"What's this? All these fireworks and it's not Guy Fawkes Night—are you really so annoyed with me! I apologize for any anxiety I may have caused you, but I only meant it as a joke of sorts—just a little diversion. Please forgive me, I didn't intend to alarm you."

"It was not very kind of you—whatever did you tell Miss Ingram, she looked quite grim when she returned; and the others were so full of giggles we couldn't get a sensible word out of them."

"Ah ah, those are the Gypsy's secrets, they may not be revealed!" said he with a reminiscent smile. "Come, sit down, no one knows I am here—it's been so long since we could talk."

"It's your fault, after all—_you _invited these people—you will have to suffer their company until they go home!" A heavy sigh was my answer. "Oh, by the way, speaking of company—did you know that you have another guest?"

"What? Who could it be? I was not expecting anyone else!"

"This is a very unusual specimen—says he has known you for a long time—he comes from the West Indies, and his name is Richard Mason."

The effect this announcement had on my Master was as shocking to me, as it evidently was to him. His normally olive complexion went paper-white, his eyes were staring without seeing, he somehow stumbled his way to a chair and sat down—his head in his hands. "Jane, please, could you get me some Brandy from the Dining Room?"

I hurried off on my mission—they were all at dinner in the Dining Room—several of them glanced up as I came and went as quietly as possible on my quest for the wine. Miss Ingram in particular, frowned at my activity; I suppose she thought I was taking a liberty. I hurried back to my Master's side with the requested remedy for his sudden affliction.

He was looking better when I returned—some of the color had come back to his face—he stretched out his hand for the brandy-glass—downed it in one gulp as though it were medicine—closed his eyes for a moment—then taking a deep breath, he thanked me for my assistance and asked me what they were doing in the Dining Room.

"The usual, I suppose, they were laughing and talking—nothing out of the ordinary."

"Was Richard Mason there?"

"Yes, they seem to have accepted his as one of the company; he was laughing at something Mr. Eshton said."

"Please, would you go back there and taking him to one side, ask Mr. Mason to come here to me? After that, you may go about your usual routine. Thank you for your help and Good Night my little... friend."

I did as he had requested, and went on my way; but I wondered at his actions. The Gypsy scene had been strange, but his reaction to the news of Richard Mason's arrival was even more peculiar and what had that odd little hesitation meant when he had called me his "little...friend"?

**Next will come Mr. Mason's mishap--the really good stuff is not far ahead, oh patient readers. Gotta do the build-up first, y'know.**


	9. Chapter 9 In The Dark Of Night

**A/N And now--an eerie night in the attic!**

IN THE DARK OF NIGHT

_I was walking down a long, dark hallway—the only light came from the flickering candle in my trembling hand. There were pictures on the walls of people long gone from this earth. I was afraid of these portraits—some of them seemed almost alive and about to speak to me. There was one near the turning that drew my attention particularly—a man and a woman standing together—somehow I knew it for a portrayal of my long-dead parents; I paused in front of it, stretching out a hand towards it and the woman in the picture extended her hand also! I started in fright, and then realized it was a mirror and the person standing next to me was my cousin, John Reed! I drew away from him in disgust—he had never done or said a kind thing to me when we were children—I wanted nothing to do with him! He sneered at me and then started to laugh—such a hideous noise he made that it woke me up!_

I realized then that the noise I had heard was not part of my dream. There was something wrong in the house. I heard sounds like fighting and cries of pain from somewhere overhead. Someone ran along the corridor outside my room and I heard them go upstairs, there were more sounds overhead, and I thought it best to get dressed—there was an emergency and I might be needed. Meanwhile, I could hear the house-guests gathering in the hallway—murmurs and exclamations testifying to their astonishment and distress

I opened my door and peeped out at the confusion in the hallway; the guests were milling about, exclaiming at the commotion upstairs, and comparing their perceptions. Col. Dent appeared at this moment—saying that he could not find Mr. Rochester in his room. A ripple of speculation ran through the gathering at this announcement—but just then he appeared—coming from the upper floor.

"Here now," he cried, "What are all these goings-on? Is it Carnival-time in Venice and I have not been told of it? I can assure you that 'tis all a pother over nothing! Ingram, such a magnificent dressing gown—I swear I am jealous of you—and Lady Lynn, such a coquettish nightcap as that is—I wonder that Lynn lets you out of his sight!" His insouciant manner was having a calming influence on his guests; but my eye met his and I raised an eyebrow in inquiry with a glance upstairs; he frowned slightly and raised a finger in admonition. I understood his message and quietly waited to see what he would do with the crowd.

He had taken some of the gentlemen aside and was spinning them a tale, "Now, you must know that two of the footmen are fond of the same young lady—it was merely a settling of accounts between them—no more than that. I have given them their warning; I can't tolerate such behavior in the house; especially when it disturbs my guests. Would you good fellows see to getting the ladies back to their beds—I really should return and supervise the end of the quarrel."

His stratagem was successful—there was a general shuffle as they dispersed to their rooms. A murmur of Good Nights and the closing of doors was heard, and within a quarter of an hour all was silent again. I knew that all was not over yet—there were no men servants sleeping in this part of the house—what I had heard was something other than a servant's altercation.

Soon there was a quiet tap on my door—I answered the summons. He stood outside in the corridor, "Good, you're dressed—bring your sponge and your smelling salts—I need your help with Mason—he's gotten himself into trouble." I fetched the things and then he took my arm and led me upstairs. "Does the sight of blood disturb you?" he asked. I shook my head, and he nodded approval, "I thought not—come, have a look at this fellow—I will need you to tend to him while I go for the Surgeon. Do you think you can do that?"

The truth was that I would have done almost anything he asked of me at that point. Without realizing it, I had fallen under the spell of his personality, and the last few weeks had brought out feelings that I had not previously known. His attentions to Miss Ingram had only served to grieve me over the possible loss of a good friend—for I knew that she would never have tolerated my presence—given her stated dislike of Governesses and her intolerance for Adele—I was certain that we would both be sent packing if he were to marry her.

The room he took me into was full of old furniture, chairs, wardrobes, tables were covered in sheeting against the dust. It gave the place a supernatural appearance in harmony with the late hour of the night and the previous alarm. There were signs of disturbance, an overturned chair, some disarrangement of the furniture covering, a few spots of blood on the floor. I hesitated a bit at the sight of the last, but Mr. Rochester drew me on—around a pile of chairs on top of a table—and then I saw that there was a light coming from a lamp by an ancient tester bed of the sort that King Henry might have used. There was a person lying on the bed and that person was Richard Mason.

How pale he was! Yes, he was covered in blood and seemed to be unconscious. Mr. Rochester shook him and then used the smelling salts to revive him. "Richard, can you hear me? I must leave you in the care of this young lady while I fetch the Surgeon. Jane, come here--see how I sponge away the blood from his shoulder—are you able to do this?" I nodded my head. "Good, that's the right way," he said as he watched me at my task.

There was a door at one side of this room—he opened it and spoke to someone in the next room—there were strange sounds coming from that place—I could hear a sort of growling, snarling noise. His message delivered, he shut and locked the door and came back to the bedside. Mr. Mason was moving feebly and complaining of his pains. "Richard, it's no more than you deserve—I told you to wait until the morning when I could be with you." There was a fretful whine from the bed's occupant.

The answer came, "You must know that I have done all I could do about this matter—surely you don't think I enjoy being in this mess. If I had known...but never mind—we've got to get you patched up and out of here before they all start waking up downstairs. Jane, I will be gone for an hour or so—just as long as it takes for me to bring Mr. Carter here. Can you manage here by yourself? Just keep sponging the blood away and try to keep him awake if possible."

He had turned away and taken a few steps toward the doorway when he stopped and came back to the bedside. "Richard—you are not to speak to this young lady—there will be no conversations between you—is that understood?" A faint moan was his answer. "Very well, see that you don't—you know what happened the last time you went against my advice." There was a shudder from the occupant of the bed. "Good, I see we understand each other. Jane, you are not to speak to him either outside of your duties here, I know I can depend on you. Are you warm enough? Do you have enough water? Very well, I will be back as soon as possible." With that he left me alone with my ghastly-looking patient.

I examined Mr. Mason's injury—there seemed to be several shallow cuts in the vicinity of his shoulder and some other type of damage with the appearance of bites or claw marks. I could not make any sense of it, and of course, I was forbidden to ask my patient about the cause of his wounds. There was a continual trickle of blood which kept me busy, and now and then there was the necessity of reviving him with the smelling salts.

The time was passing more slowly than I cared for—I prayed that Mr. Rochester would return soon. This eerie room with the wraith-like appearance given by the sheeted furniture was beginning to wear on my nerves. Those covers would move every time a draft came through the old windows—it was rather unsettling, to say the least. Then the lamp would flicker now and then—I checked the reservoir—it was as I feared—the oil was low—I turned the wick down so that the lamp would burn more slowly. This made the room dimmer and the shadows darker and every time a draft came through the window frames and moved the sheeting, the shadows moved too.

Every now and then I could hear sounds from the other room—someone in there was moving around—I could hear an uneven, dragging step from time to time. Sometimes there was a sort of murmur, a cackle of laughter, a groan—I hoped the door was secured. I seemed to recall that Mr. Rochester had locked it before he left, but I didn't dare to leave Mr. Mason long enough to ascertain this. All this time, Mr. Mason had laid quietly in the bed, obediently silent except for an occasional moan of pain—he was very pale and looked almost as frightened as I felt. It was a great relief when we heard Mr. Rochester's return—some steps in the hallway, a few words of conversation and he came in with another lamp and Mr. Carter, the Surgeon.

"Well, Richard, I see you are still with us—Miss Eyre took good care of you, did she? I knew she would. Here is the Surgeon ready to patch you up—be a good fellow and cooperate with him." Here he turned to me, "Mason's room is the one next to mine—would you be so good as to pack up his things and get him a clean shirt—if you can't lay hands on one of his, then get one of mine out of the wardrobe in my dressing room. Then hurry back as soon as you can."

It developed that Mr. Mason had never unpacked his bag, so that was one thing less to do. His bag was locked and there was no key to hand—so I had to get one of Mr. Rochester's shirts. I was soon returned to the upper story. There was another errand waiting my return—Mr. Mason would need his fur-lined cloak and since he felt faint; there was a need for a remedy which Mr. Rochester said could be found in a drawer of his own dressing table. I fetched the requested items and waited while the cordial was administered. Mr. Mason was then able to rise from the bed with some help; and, with Mr. Rochester's and Mr. Carter's support, was able to walk. I was sent on ahead to make certain that no one was yet stirring and that the hired chaise was in place and ready to leave.'

-xxx-

The chaise had just rattled out of the yard with the Surgeon and his patient—I was about to return to the house and my interrupted sleep when Mr. Rochester called me to come walk with him in the garden. I hesitated—truly I was very weary and sleepy; but the morning was dawning and the dew was sparkling in the sun's first rays, and the birds were starting to sing. The cool morning air refreshed me, I came forward to accept his invitation.

"You look tired," he said, "I will not keep you long. I have been wanting a word with you and there never seems to be time. How are you feeling—you look very pale?"

I replied that I was merely a little tired from my long night, but that it was nothing to merit concern. He nodded and we continued our stroll—the flowers were beginning to open under the Sun's warm touch—their fragrance adding to the beauty of the dawning day. He paused a moment at a rose bush where the first bud was just coming into bloom, he picked the rose and presented it to me. "This comes with my thanks for your help last night—there are not many people I could rely on for the aid you gave me. I know you will not speak of what happened—you do not care for gossip."

"No sir, I will not mention it to anyone. But I am concerned for Mr. Mason—will he be all right? Mr. Carter said he had lost a great deal of blood..."

"He will do—Carter will take good care of him—I'll go over in a day or so to see how he goes on—but there should be no great problem with his recovery. He's a bit of a hypochondriac and needs firm handling and a minimum of coddling—Carter will see to it. I'll send him back to Jamaica as soon as he can travel and that will be the end of the episode." I nodded my understanding and we continued our walk. "Look here, Jane, there's something I've been wanting to discuss with you for some time and somehow we never have the time or the opportunity..."

At that moment a commotion in the stableyard drew our attention—an old-fashioned coach had just pulled into the yard and the groom came running out to tend to the team, still in the act of buttoning his vest. The coachman leaned down from his seat to ask something and then passed him a letter of some kind. Mr. Rochester frowned, "I was not expecting anybody—who could this be? Come, Jane, we had better go in—our talk will have to wait for a better time."

I had just set my foot on the staircase to go up and hopefully repair the damages of my sleepless night, when John came up to me with the news that a message had come for me.

**Have you noticed that I'm "cliffing" you? He wants to tell her something and never gets the chance--heehee! Next chapter will be Gateshead--wait until you take a second look at those people!**


	10. Chapter 10 The Serpent's Tooth

**A/N And now for a little side trip to Gateshead and some home truths that never occurred to CB about this lovely family.**

SHARPER THAN THE SERPENT'S TOOTH

A Messenger had come to summon me to Gateshead, where my Aunt Reed lay dying. It seemed that my Cousin John had killed himself over his gambling debts and my Aunt had fallen into an apoplectic fit when the news came to her. She was not expected to last long, and I was told that she insisted on seeing me before she passed away. I was not particularly eager to go back to that horrible house; but since one of the worst objections to my doing so was dead; and the other in no case to mistreat me; I supposed I could deal with the situation. I reluctantly agreed to the journey. Of course, that meant I would have to ask for a leave of absence.

I, accordingly, went in search of my Employer. He, and some of his guests, including the ever-present Miss Ingram, had just returned from riding. I found them in the Courtyard, in process of dismounting; the horses then being led away to the stables by the Grooms. Miss Blanche saw me first, looking disapprovingly at me—no doubt she thought I was neglecting my duties—she said something to Mr. Rochester, who then turned and looked my way. "Was there something you needed Miss Eyre?" he inquired.

"Please sir, if I might have a few moments, I have a request to make of you."

He waved his companions on to the house, saying that he would be with them shortly. Miss Ingram showed a tendency to linger, but he ignored her, and taking my arm, led me off into the Orchard garden, which was walled off from the flowerbeds and parterres which immediately surrounded the house. "Thank God for a little peace!" he exclaimed, "When I invited this horde over, I had no notion that it would claim so much of my time! The fruit trees look well, there are a lot of blossoms, we should have a good crop this year. You had something to ask of me, what was it?" By now, he had seated me on the bench which ran around the Chestnut tree.

"I have had bad news today, sir, I will need a leave of absence for a week or so. My Cousin, John Reed, is dead and his mother, they tell me, is on her deathbed and asking for me. I will have to go to her."

"Reed? What connection have they with you?"

"It is my Mother's family, I have not had any contact with them since I was a child and was sent away to school."

"They were talking about a John Reed the other day—I'm afraid there was little good said of him."

"Undoubtedly everything they said was true, he was horrible even when I knew him."

"Someone mentioned a Georgiana Reed, described her as quite a beauty."

"That would be one of his sisters, the other is named Eliza."

"Well, if your Aunt has two daughters to support her in her grief, what need has she of you? From the sound of it, you were not close in her affections."

"She is dying, and it is her last request, I cannot ignore it."

"You said a few weeks—how long is that?"

"I really don't know, sir. I do not wish to be away for long, it is just that there is no way to know how long it will take."

"You will not stay there, you _will _return—promise me that you will come back." I was a bit surprised at his emphasis on my returning, but I assented. "How do you plan to go? Is it far?"

"It is about a hundred miles, they have sent their coach and Coachman."

"Is he a reliable person?"

"He has been with the family since I was a child, he is married to my former Nurse."

"Oh very well, when do you plan to leave?"

"As soon as I can be packed."

"I have neglected to give you your wages, have I not? Here, take this, you will need funds for your journey."

It was fifty pounds, I refused to take it. I told him that I could not accept more than was due me. He gave one of his intimidating scowls at my refusal, but I refused to be moved. He finally gave in with a sigh and going through his pockets, came up with ten pounds. I told him that there was five pounds still owing, he snorted and told me I would have to come back if I wanted it.

He reached out and took my hand, "We have to say Good-bye for a while, I am not sure how to say it to you, but actions sometimes take the place of words," and, to my surprise, he drew me close and kissed my forehead, "Come back soon," he murmured, and turning away from me, walked rapidly back to the house. I stood there, somewhat nonplussed, feeling as though the imprint of his lips must somehow be blazoned on my brow, there for all to see. What had he meant by it? I had no answer.

When I informed St. John of my projected absence, oddly enough, he echoed Mr. Rochester's objections almost to a word. I carried my point with him by reminding him that it was surely my "Christian Duty" to go to my Aunt's bedside to comfort her in her last days on this Earth. He even duplicated my Master's request that I not make my absence too long; but thankfully he refrained from kissing me.

Early the next morning I was on the road back to Gateshead.

-xxx-

What did I find waiting for me at the end of my trip? What had I expected after all? This was not the place where a warm welcome would await me. Bessie was glad to see me—she exclaimed over how well I looked and made much of my accomplishments. I enjoyed seeing her with her children—it brought back memories of my own childhood. Bessie, in spite of her impatient ways, had always been kind to me.

But my Cousins were another matter entirely. Eliza had grown very stiff in her ways, there seemed to be a spite-wall dividing her from her sister. Georgiana was her complete opposite, very much the Belle of Society in her ways, stylishly dressed in spite of being in Mourning for her Brother, opulently endowed in face and figure, but peevish and whining at the restrictions which had recently befallen her. "I wish I could be in London now with Aunt and Uncle Gibson, and not stuck way off here in the country. The Season will be going on and how am I ever to make an eligible connection if I am not there to be seen?"

Eliza looked at her with dislike—reminding her that since she was in mourning, she would not be able to attend any parties. Georgiana simply pouted and sulked the time away; while Eliza read improving books and worked at her embroidery—it seemed that she was in process of finishing an altar cloth for the church nearby. Neither of them seemed to spend much time with my Aunt.

When I asked to see her, eyebrows were raised at my request. Eliza said, "Mama is not very well, she finds visitors taxing."

I reminded her that I had been sent for specifically because her Mother had requested my presence. Eliza muttered something to the effect that she would see what could be done, but that the truth was that her Mother was almost unresponsive, and it would be difficult for her to communicate anything to me. I reminded Eliza that my Employer had been very lenient in allowing me to come and that my return was expected before too long.

The next day Bessie came to me with the news that my Aunt had rallied sufficiently for me to be able to visit her bedside. I had noted a number of changes since my return to my Aunt's household, but none was greater than the change in my Aunt's appearance. Gone was the imperious, commanding presence I recalled: in its place I found a dying woman, shriveled and faded, her face and speech distorted by her stroke. She likewise had trouble recognizing me, but perhaps her sight had been affected also.

Nothing much was said about reconciliation, but she did admit that she had failed to honor her Husband's dying request when he had asked that I be brought up as one with the rest of the Family. She confessed that she had also withheld a small legacy from my Parents—a few trinkets and personal belongings—things more of sentimental value than anything else. I was truly glad to receive these things and thanked her for them. I told her that she had my forgiveness for any past wrongs, but she was, as ever, adamantine in her rejection of my overtures. A few days later when she died, her daughters accepted the news with the same gelid calm as the grave, which received her.

-xxx-

Eliza spoke to me on one of the last days I spent at Gateshead. I had been helping her pack up the things that she had managed to salvage from the Estate. A few books and pictures, some pieces of china and glassware.

She smiled in that rather brief, dry fashion of hers and said, "Well, I appreciate the help you have given me—you are much more sensible than Georgy, she is completely useless, just sits there and moans about going to London to stay with the Gibsons. You, at least have some sense in your head."

She came a little closer to me and laid her hand on my arm, "I don't suppose while you were at that school, that you had a friend, someone you were very _close_ to." She seemed to be giving a particular meaning to her words. I drew back a little from her—I had a suspicion as to her idea. "You know, dear Jane; that there are those of us who do not care for the thought of marriage; that to some of us the mere idea of being tied for life to a man who may then do as he pleases with our persons and our property, is-- to put it gently—distasteful." I turned slightly away from her. "I see you do not agree with me—a shame--perhaps. Well, I will say no more. By the bye, the things in that box over there were your Mother's belongings, they are yours if you want them. I will bid you Farewell now, the coach will come for me tomorrow morning. I wish you well, Miss Eyre." That was the last I saw of my Cousin Eliza. I could only hope she was content with her life in the French Convent which she chose to enter.

As for Georgiana, she grumbled and moaned a few more days until her Uncle Gibson came to fetch her, and I should mention here, just to be done with the matter, that Georgiana managed to attract the attention of, and to marry, one of those ridiculous old fops who insist on dressing in an exaggerated fashion long after such a thing looks well on them. He had enough money to lavish on her slightest wish and so, I suppose she was content.

So there it was—a chapter in my life closed. The Reed family was no more—with the deaths of my Aunt and my Cousin John Reed, the marriage of Georgiana, and Eliza's entry into the "Convent of the Sorrows of Our Blessed Mother Mary" in Boulogne—I had for family; only my Uncle John Eyre, and my Cousins Rivers, and frankly, I liked them much better.

The only one I was sorry to leave was Bessie—we spent a last evening together before I left to return to Thornfield. We talked for a long time, reminiscing over the Past and she said something to me that I realized I had never thought of. "You know, Miss Jane, it were just as well as you went away to that school of yours. Master John got into some very bad ways of behaving later on. Missus couldn't keep the maids—not for long—he'd do something and they'd be off—either on their own account, or hers. He even tried to lay hands on me once, but I skelped him a good one and said I would tell my Husband and his Mother on him if he didn't leave me alone. He kind of sneered, but he was afeared of them both, so that was the end of my problem. But, you, there would have been none to look after you--'twas better you were away."

Yes, it was better that I had gone away to Lowood. Despite the hard life I had led there, it had given me a good education and an opportunity to better myself that I would not have had elsewhere. Things had turned out well for me in the end.

-xxx-

The next morning, I was on the way back to Thornfield. I could hardly stop smiling in my anticipation, even though I was afraid I would soon have to leave it permanently if Mr. Rochester were to marry Miss Ingram.

It was late in the afternoon of the second day when I walked along the lane which led to Hay, and Thornfield. The farm laborers I passed were on their way to their homes after a long day working outside—it seemed that they had been harvesting the hay from the meadows. The fields were newly shorn, and the hay bundles were neatly arranged—ready to be loaded on the wagons—indeed, a wagon was coming down the lane towards me, the fragrant hay piled high, the horses plodding homeward, pulling their winter's feed behind them.

After it passed, I could see the stile up ahead. Someone was sitting there—resting perhaps from his labors, before heading for home. I looked again—it was Mr. Rochester—I thought of trying to hide somewhere; I wasn't ready to see him, to talk to him. While I was still trying to think of an escape plan, he saw me and called out to me. "Jane, there you are at last! I was beginning to think that you had forgotten the way back home! Well, don't just stand there as if your feet had taken root, come here and tell me how it went at Gateshead."

"Good evening, sir." was all I could find to say.

"Yes, Miss Eyre, and a very good evening to you too! But, here I am all ears and eager to hear of your adventures, and you stand as mute as a statue. It makes me wonder how Pygmalion managed it..."

"Managed what, sir?"

"Well, wasn't he the fellow who made such a lovely statue, that what must he do but fall in love with his creation, and wish for it to be alive!"

"Ah, yes, so he did—and got his wish granted, as I recall."

"I always wondered how that worked out—I hope he didn't regret it!"

I found myself smiling at the idea of Pygmalion regretting his choice—while Galatea sat placidly, without a thought in her pretty head.

"You smiled, what were you thinking?"

"I was just wondering if she had any conversation at all."

"My thought exactly," and here he smiled at me—the full warmth of his nature shining just for me. "Go on home, Jane, I'm very glad you're back." and here he rose to help me over the stile, taking my hand in his as though to steady me. A strange sensation—almost like electricity—passed through my hand and up my arm, I caught my breath, startled by the unexpectedness of this experience. I paused, staring at him, my thoughts scattered, unable to move until I could collect myself

I don't know why I let these words out of my mouth—but by the time I thought to stem their flow, it was already too late, "I just want to say my thanks to you for your great kindness to me—and to tell you that wherever you are is my home—my only home." I managed to pull loose from him then and was over the stile; almost flying in my haste and discomposure; my face burning with embarrassment; drawn toward Thornfield as though compelled by a magnetic force.

**Yes, this is where the fun begins folks!**


	11. Chapter 11 Dicing With Fate

**A/N So there he sits--thinking... I never thought this decision was an easy one for him.**

DICING WITH FATE

I sat on the stile for a long interval after she went on to the house. I realized that things had come to a point where I would have to make a decision soon. This innocent-minded little girl did not seem to realize that there were not one but two suitors for her hand. Indeed, she appeared to be completely unconscious of even the possibility that someone might find her desirable; might wish to marry her.

I was aware however, that Mr. Rivers had been regarding her for some time with a rather proprietary air. He was her Cousin, of course, and could be expected to take an interest in her as a member of his family; and in some small way, she could be considered to be his responsibility; as much as if she were another sister. He was not her Guardian though, that would have been the Aunt who had just died. It seemed that she was a free agent—able to make her own decisions as to her Future.

I looked at my hand, it still retained the electric sensation I had felt when I took her hand to help her over the stile. "You're in deep trouble, my friend," I told myself, "that's never happened before, but I know what it means!"

I thought about the words she had blurted out, "Wherever you are is my home..." How embarrassed she had been at this rash statement of hers—but how much it had pleased me to hear it! At last I had a solid indicator of her feelings, which she had been successfully concealing from me until now.

The question before me was: what course of action to follow—I wanted to be honest with her, to tell her everything, to lay my problems before her, and to ask for her understanding and support. I feared to take that step. I foresaw what might come of it: I could hear it now—the hesitant little stammer as she refused me; I could see the sorrow in her posture as she turned her face away from me; and worst of all, I could visualize my rival's triumph as he won her by default!

It was a problem as thorny as the trees where the rooks were roosting, over there in the field. Family lore had it that as long as the rooks roosted there—the lands would stay in our possession. There was even a rook on the crest of our coat-of-arms. Noisy birds, but I was accustomed to hearing them—it was something I always missed when I was away—the sound of their cawing.

There was a melancholy thought—who was there to care for the lands when I was gone? I was the last leaf on the Rochester family tree, and I was not getting any younger. In a few more years it might be too late for me. I had a vivid memory of an evening a few months ago—I had walked into the Drawing Room at Teatime and there they were, sitting by the fire: Mrs. Fairfax, Adele, and Jane—almost like a family portrait. It was then that I knew what it was that I had been missing all these years—a home. Yes, a home was what I wanted—and I wanted that sweet, gentle little girl to be the center of it.

Perhaps I should leave soon for another of my endless, aimless trips. Maybe if I was away from here—not seeing her all the time—I could deal with my feelings—could repress my emotions—deny this hopeless love I felt. No, I already knew that it wouldn't be that easy—this whole time she had been away at her Aunt's—I had spent living in a wasteland. I had gone to London and taken care of some small business details: made the rounds; gone to some lectures; attended the Theatre with some of my acquaintances (avoiding the lures of the "Green Room" afterwards!); stopped by my Club; paid some calls—the usual round of Society—and I had felt as if I was in an enclosure made of glass. I could see and be seen, but nothing touched me and I could not feel anything. It was not until I had seen, touched, and spoken to her a short time ago that the spell had lifted—I felt alive again—all the rest had been like suspended animation—like the sort of dream that one cannot wake from.

Just the thought of Rivers with her set my teeth on edge—he was a perfectly worthy fellow—high-principled, well-educated, a gentleman, and extremely handsome into the bargain. But—his was also a very cold personality; very punctilious in carrying out his parish duties, but there was no heart behind the words of Christian comfort. His sermons were all right as far as they went, but I could see that he was restless in his post. He had some wider ambition in mind—once the opportunity presented itself, he would move on—and if I failed to act—he would take Jane with him. I feared for her happiness if she were tied to him—I could see the likelihood of her youth and joy fading away under the relentless pressure of his austere personality.

I thought of the way she had looked when I first knew her: thin and pale and sad—the weight of a harsh childhood still upon those slender shoulders of hers. In time I had seen a transformation—the drooping little Snowdrop transformed into a blossoming Rose. She smiled, she laughed, there was color in her cheeks, a spring to her step, a cheerful demeanor when we met. I could not bear the thought that she might go back to what she had been before I had known her and fallen in love with her. Unless I made a declaration of my feelings soon, it could happen like that.

So, there I was on the horns of that fabled beast called "Dilemma"--no matter the choice before me—it would be a flawed decision, because both the choices had something wrong with them.

I had sat here long enough—Pilot was nosing at my leg—trying to prod me into going home, no doubt. I got up and glanced toward the noisy rookery over yonder--"Well, I shall see what can be done," said I, and I pulled a penny out of my pocket--"Heads or tails—what shall it be?"

**Next stop--there will be a frog waiting for us.**


	12. Chapter 12 The Prince

**A/N--At last--the proposal scene!**

THE PRINCE

I had been back at Thornfield for several weeks when I found Mr. Rochester in the Library one evening. Upon seeing him there, I started to leave, but he stopped my retreat—saying,"I'm feeling a bit dull this evening and I've been wishing for a chance to talk with you. There's some things we should be discussing. Some matters that I have had weighing on me lately. Come, sit down here, be comfortable—this may take some time."

I sat quietly, looking around the room. I realized that something was—odd. There was a small croaking noise coming from the corner of the Library. I stared in that direction, but could not see what was making the sound.

He looked up and, following my gaze, gave a chuckle, "Miss Eyre, I believe I should introduce you to my little friend—a prince in disguise, perhaps. You would never believe where I found him. Several weeks ago, I was about to retire, when I discovered this little fellow in the middle of my counterpane! Doesn't he have the most elegant stripes?" and he produced a frog from the terrarium in the corner.

It was Adele's frog, of course, which had been forgotten in the excitement of the arrival of the house party several weeks ago. Apparently Mr. Frog had gone exploring. Mr. Rochester smiled and put the frog back in its new home.

He said nothing for a while—sitting in his chair with an untasted glass of wine at his side. The fire was burning brightly; for in spite of its being Summer, there was usually a fire in the Library to keep the damp from the books. After a while, he got up and started pacing the floor, "There's something we need to decide soon—Adele has advanced greatly in her studies, you have done well with her—it seems to me that she could be sent to School before much longer."

I was caught unaware by his pronouncement; there was a heavy weight on my heart. _He would be planning to send me away next, so as to clear the way for his marriage to Miss Ingram!_ I could not move or speak just then, I think all I managed to say was, "Oh?"

"Of course, if Adele goes to School—as I have always intended for her to do—there will be a need for you to have a new position. There are several places to choose from that I know of—would you prefer Ireland—or Belgium, perhaps? Your French is so good that I am sure that you would have a great success abroad. There is a school in Brussels that I have heard of—I believe they are in search of an Instructoress for English—you could accompany Adele there, and thereby keep her under your wing."

I could not speak, I was choking on a wellspring of unshed tears. I rose and went to the window—my face turned away from him. _I always knew this moment would come—I must not let him know how much it hurts me to think of leaving! _I clenched my fists against the pain I felt, as I brought them up to my chest to press to my grieving heart, my nails digging into the palms almost to pierce the skin, and draw forth the blood which was thundering in my ears with each heavy pulse.

"Well, Miss Eyre, which do you prefer to consider—Ireland or Belgium? Miss Eyre? Jane? What have you to say? Oh, deuce take it—you're crying—here!" He thrust his handkerchief into my hand and when I was tardy in putting it to use—took it back and proceeded to mop up the tears.

I was soon better, he escorted me back to my seat, and stood there studying me for awhile—then he turned away and began his pacing again. I soon grew restless, he glanced up at my movement and smiled, "I was thinking just then of a secret wish I have long had. It has come to mean more to me than anything else.

"When I had all those people here a few months ago, I could see you studying them. They were all hungry for something—money, social standing, political gain for the men; and the ladies, of course, were wanting the latest fashions in suitors and gowns—as well as wealth and position in Society. Very few of them wanted something of any real worth. I felt very alienated from them after a while. I was glad to see them go home.

"Its a strange quality that you have—I find myself talking with you about so many things—things that I've never even considered sharing with anyone else. Yes, there is something I want—and all the money in the World cannot buy it for me."

I sat there, wondering what he could mean.

"You've not had a home of your own for a long time now, so perhaps you will understand me when I tell you that what is lacking in my life is a home."

"But, you have all this—this house—its such a lovely place!"

"Its an empty place for me, Jane. A shell of stone and wood, filled with material things and lacking in the one thing that matters—it has no life. You said something the other day when you returned from your absence. It made me hope that perhaps I could have my wish."

"I said something? What was it?"

"You were walking away from me when suddenly you stopped, and turned around, and said the most extraordinary thing. I wasn't expecting to hear you say that. It was so surprising and wonderful to hear those words from you. You said, 'wherever you are is my home—my only home.'"

I tried to look away from him—I remembered my faux-pas. I could feel the red tide of embarrassment rising in my face. He reached out and took hold of my hand and I realized that he was gazing at me very intently. "Oh please!" I cried out, "I think I should go now!"

"No, I want you to stay and hear me out." He still held my hand, refusing to release me.

"You have already been making your plans and they have nothing to do with me!"

We were both standing now and he still held my hand in his. He bent and kissed my fingers and said, "On the contrary—my plans have everything to do with you."

I was stunned, I could not believe this was happening. He continued, "When you were away, all the life in this place went with you. A week went by, two weeks---it seemed an eternity to me. I went to London in search of diversion—nothing served to distract me. I saw people I knew; looked in at my Club; stopped by the Royal Society; went to my tailor; made arrangements to purchase a new carriage; and none of it meant anything—I was just going through the motions of being alive. I came back here and you still had not returned. I was about to order out carriage and horses and fetch you back here myself when you reappeared as quietly as you had gone.

"I think I have been in love with you from almost the first moment I saw you, when I saved you from the dragon."

"Dragon? What are you talking about?"

"Your estimable cousin, Mr. Rivers, he has a very baleful aspect when he preaches at me on Sundays."

"Nonsense, sir—you are notable for your poor attendance at the services!"

"Ah yes, and now you know why. Besides, he was never the attraction: I went to see more of God's most perfect creation."

"A very pretty turn of phrase indeed, but what do you mean by it?"

"It was you—you were the main attraction. I want you to be what is missing from my life—the center of my existence—my love and my wife."

"I thought you had chosen someone else."

"You have not heard the latest news then, the young lady is _otherwise_ _engaged."_

"She threw you over! I am sorry for that."

"Your sympathies are misplaced, my love, it all played out as I wished it to. She lost interest in me after she heard that my fortunes had undergone a reversal, and that my wealth was much less than had been supposed. Her present suitor has a Title, which is something I lack, and he is reasonably prosperous, she has done well for herself."

"You do not regret your loss, then---but I am concerned about your means—how will you manage now that your income is curtailed?"

He was laughing now as he put his arms around me. "All that business about the money was a rumor, which I carefully circulated, so that she would hear it and make of it what she would."

"I think I should be angry with you for that devious behavior—why did you bother with her if you didn't want to marry her?"

"I don't know if I shall tell you that just now—I am mortally afraid of that sharp tongue of yours. Tell you what—if you will marry me, I will tell you, otherwise my lips are sealed," and here he passed a finger across his closed mouth—his whole face was full of amusement—a sparkle to his eye—a quirk at the the corner of his "sealed" lips.

I was aware of vexation with his continued sophistry. "I am not sure I should believe a word you say when you look so mischievous! Your misbehavior should not be rewarded—do not look at me that way—it is very provoking!" His arms were still around me, and he would not release me despite my indignation.

"I _will_ have an answer to my proposal—don't you dare tantalize me any longer—I will not be put off by misdirection and evasion! A simple 'yes' or 'no' will do."

"You really wish me to marry you? What have I to offer? Its all to the negative side of the balance: no looks and no money!"

"Those are not the things that matter to me: lack of looks is something I am all too familiar with, I need only look in the mirror at myself, and lack of money is not worth mentioning. About the only thing that _would _matter is lack of love, and I have told you that I love you, and I suspect you of the same feeling, although you have been trying to hide it from me. I think it is confession time for you."

"You are very hard on me indeed!"

"Its for your own good—come now—I want my answer."

I gave a heartfelt sigh. "Very well, since you insist so much, I _do _love you and I _will_ marry you—and this had better not be one of your games!"

"You _will_ marry me—you _do_ love me!"

"Yes and yes!"

At that he picked me up off the floor and in his triumph, launched us into a dizzying spin about the room. "My little darling, we will be so happy together, you have no idea!"

"I think we should sit down before we fall down."

"So prosaic—here I am over the Moon with joy and she brings me back to Earth with a loud thump! Very well, we will sit down." He seated himself with me on his knee and proceeded to kiss me most enthusiastically. This was almost as disorienting as the mad spin had been.

The clock on the mantelpiece began to chime, "My heavens, look at the time!" I cried, "Its Midnight—I must go before the spell wears off!"

"What? Do you think I'll turn into a pumpkin?"

"No, more likely a frog!" and I made my escape, laughing as I ran out of the room. I looked back at him—he was standing near the fireplace—a smile on his face. A sound reached my ears as I set my foot on the stairs.

"RIBBIT!"

I laughed all the way to my room.

**Now the fun begins!**


	13. Chapter 13 Once Upon A Frog

**A/N Yes, this is your friendly author who knows all and sees all--Shopping in Millcote, a few remarks about eyebrows, a bit of ancient Rochester family history, and St. John's reaction to the actions! Have a nice ride!**

ONCE UPON A FROG

I awoke the next morning and remembered all that had happened the evening before. Had he really said that he loved me and had he actually asked me to be his wife? In the light of day I found it all hard to believe. He had been a bit odd in his behavior, and yet he had seemed to be in earnest when he had made his proposal. And what was all that nonsense about Blanche Ingram? He had yet to explain himself on that front. I could see that we needed to clarify a thing or two.

Another thought came to my mind—St. John—what would he say to all this? After all, he was my Cousin and next to my Uncle, my closest male relative—he could be considered even to be the head of the family, in the absence of my Uncle. I knew him to be somewhat disapproving of Mr. Rochester, who was not diligent in his attendance at Church services.

Of course, some might say that my master more than made up for this lack by his generous nature which ensured that Charity was visited upon all who needed it. I had also noticed that his tenants were well-housed and fed, that his lands were kept in good order, and that his servants had little to complain of in the matter of their treatment: whether in wages, housing, or food. Indeed, I suspected that there were few to match him for general beneficence.

This being said, I knew that there was something in the atmosphere whenever he and St. John came together, nothing I could identify, perhaps it was just the matter of opposites or perhaps some sort of male rivalry. Perhaps the feeling one gets when a storm is brewing: electricity in the air, a strange color to the sky, and a general feeling of foreboding. Well, I could do nothing about it, but I could beard Mr. Rochester in his figurative den and extract from him some answers to my other questions.

I went downstairs, Mrs. Fairfax saw me and called me into Breakfast. I was hungry for once, and made a good meal. I asked her if she had seen the Master this morning and she replied that she thought he was somewhere in the grounds. She looked at me a bit oddly, but I simply said that I needed to see him about a matter to do with Adele's instruction. I was ashamed at the ease with which this prevarication came to me, but I refused to let it embarrass me.

As I was leaving Mrs. Fairfax's room, Sam came in search of me, "Master says you're to see him in the Library, Miss Eyre". Accordingly, I bent my steps in that direction. I opened the door, and there he was.

"Ah, there you are at last!" he said, and "Sam, (before you close the door) be sure to tell John that I shall want the new carriage readied in order to go to Millcote in an hour from now."

"Yes sir," and Sam departed on his mission.

"I thought you would never come downstairs this morning," he said, "and then what must Mrs. Fairfax do but snare you off to the Breakfast Parlor, I have been so impatient to see you that I was about to breach her defenses and bear you away in the face of all opposition. What is the matter with you, why are you making such a strange face at me?"

I was having a hard time controlling myself, this piqued mood of his was extremely humorous to me. I strove for some control, "Oh never say you were about to breach the bastions of the Breakfast Room! You know that is a sacred place! I am sorry if my face offends you—but I fear that it is an indivisible part of me and so cannot be readily exchanged for another!"

His eyebrows came together in one of those thundercloud frowns of his, and he growled, "Indivisible is it? _Indefensible_ might better describe your behavior—are you laughing at me?"

By now I had lost all control of myself, I laughed until it hurt, and even then I couldn't stop. At last I was able to draw breath; by now my eyes were watering; and I had the hiccups into the bargain. "Oh dear, I _am_ sorry, I never meant to...it was just that look of yours..when you frown... and you do that thing with your eyebrows."

"Good Heavens, you impertinent little thing, are you still laughing? Here, take my handkerchief, your eyes are watering and here, have some of this water for those silly hiccups of yours." Under his ministrations, I was soon recovered from my fit of hilarity. He was looking a bit rueful and said, "This is scarcely the way I had planned for our morning to go."

He seated me on the sofa and sat down next to me, putting his arm around me to draw me close, "My dear little girl, I can scarcely begin to tell you how happy you have made me by accepting my offer of marriage. I want to make you as happy as you deserve to be, and if that means I must waggle my eyebrows at you on a daily basis—well, so be it—I will not mind the sacrifice."

"Sacrifice? That sounds suspiciously noble of you, sir."

"No sacrifice is too great—save one."

"And that would be...what?"

"I refuse to shave my eyebrows off—even though I keep them at the peril of your life."

"At the peril of my life?"

"Why yes, I thought you were nearly asphyxiated by that fit of yours. I can tell you I was beginning to be seriously concerned for you."

"I think we are getting off the subject with all this nonsense about eyebrows."

"My darling, I believe you started it."

"So I did—more fool me," I sighed.

"Well, we can talk further on our drive this morning, when I take you shopping in Millcote."

"Shopping? Millcote? What are you talking about?"

"You are going to need a dress for the wedding, are you not? And a veil? And some gowns and so forth for the trousseau? And of course, the jeweler so that you can be measured for your ring."

"I can see that you've been very busy making plans this morning," I said, "There are a few things that occur to me that should be done also." He waggled his eyebrows at me in answer. "Do not distract me, sir, I am trying to be serious. First of all, when do you plan to have this wedding of ours?"

"So practical," he murmured, "well, I thought in a month's time, just as soon as they can call the banns."

"Which brings me to the next item on my list, you need to talk to my Cousin—he is my closest relative and of course, must be told. Also, you should speak to Mrs. Fairfax about your intentions. And one more thing—what are you going to do about Adele?"

"Well, little Miss Slugabed, while you wallowed in your quilts this morning, I was up and about, taking care of some of this business. I have already informed Mrs. Fairfax of my plans and have spoken with your Cousin about the Wedding."

"You have, what did he say?"

"Well, he was his usual stiff, disapproving self, but apart from that—by-the-bye does he cherish some sort of tender feelings for you?--he seemed to be really taken aback at my announcement."

"I have never thought of it, possibly he does."

"Surely you would never seriously consider marrying him."

"I don't see where this idea of yours applies. He certainly has never mentioned such sentiments to me."

"But he's very good-looking."

"So are statues—but I certainly would never think of marrying one! What is all this about? Are you jealous?"

"Caught again, you are too quick for me! What a lively time we shall have with these discussions of ours." here he bent and gave me a kiss. The clock began to strike the hour just then, and Sam came to the door to say that the carriage was ready for our excursion to Millcote and the wide world of commerce.

Adele was waiting in the Hall for us; she put in a plea to go along on our outing. Mr. Rochester at first refused to take her, saying he wanted to be alone with me. I told him that I would not go unless she _was_ included. Adele pouted, he made play with his eyebrows, and I stood firm; refusing to go for my bonnet and shawl until he conceded. He gave way at last, saying that if it really mattered to me, then I should have my wish. I believe though that I heard him growl something about "all very well for now."

-xxx-

The shopping expedition was a bit overwhelming for me, for all of a sudden, it was brought home to me that I might have the whole contents of the store if I should wish it. Of course, I did not desire such a thing, but it was a bit daunting in the realization.

Fortunately, my escort had very decided ideas as to what it would suit _him_ to purchase for me so I merely had to argue with _him_ as to the quantity, color, style and so forth...we had an invigorating time of it. He would say six dresses, I would say three. He would hold out for amethyst and rose and I would cling to grey and black. He would snort something about my Quakerish tastes and I would mention Popinjays. I later discovered when these purchases were delivered to Thornfield that he had gone behind my back and ordered his choices in addition to mine!

The jeweler's was a particular trial. We had gone there on the pretense of me being measured for my ring. He was not content with such a small—though meaningful—purchase, and I found myself appalled at the idea that he might purchase the diamond parure that the Proprietor was showing him. Fortunately Adele came to my rescue, exclaiming over a lovely pearl necklace to which she drew his attention. He agreed with her on this point, saying that her choice was more appropriate than his would have been.

-xxx-

It was a relief when we were in the carriage returning to Thornfield. Adele soon fell asleep in her corner and I found his hand in search of mine. I looked at him reproachfully, "You must know that we cannot be seen in public places making a show of our feelings. Everybody is going to be watching us and speculating about our behavior."

"Let them do so, I do not care about Scandal and neither should you."

"Our situations are very different: you are a wealthy man and may do as you please; I am a young woman, with no means beyond my teaching, all I have is my reputation, I have to be careful not to lose it by careless behavior."

"Hmph! I'll tell you a story about scandal that might surprise you. Have you noticed the King's portrait that hangs in the Great Hall at Thornfield? Perhaps you know that such portraits were often given as a sign of special favor from the Monarchy. So it was in this case; the Rochester of that era had spent some time at Court. He was a crony of the other Rochester of the time, the Earl, who was well-known for his wit and his love of a good party—also known for his licentious behavior—he was a bad example and paid the price in the end—falling victim to the sort of disease that visits those who overindulge themselves. I lay the scheme, which was later developed, at Wilmot's (1) door, he was gifted with a fertile imagination, among other things.

"As matters stood, my particular Rochester, in spite of having a lovely young wife, had in ten years of Matrimony, failed to produce any little Rochesters for the furtherance of his line. The reason is not known, but I doubt that the lady was at fault. At any rate, the King was invited to visit on one of his Progresses—he came and was lavishly entertained for about a sennight, which was really all that his host could afford, since wherever the King went, the Court went also. The whole point of my telling you this is that nine months later the Rochesters were the parents of a fine boy baby. You were going on about my eyebrows earlier today—had you never noted the resemblance?"

"You are not joking, are you?"

"True story."

"Your Rochester didn't mind—that the child might not have been his?"

"Oh, the little cuckoo in his nest? No, on the contrary, his inheritance problem was solved. After all, the next heir was a particularly obnoxious Roundhead (2) of very dour beliefs. Nobody really wanted to see _him_ in charge. The portrait was delivered just in time for little Edward Charles' Christening. So, you like my eyebrows—shall I cultivate a mustache?"

"Only if you will shave the eyebrows—I draw the line at an excess of facial hair!"

He was laughing now, "Oh dear, what am I to do with you? Such a saucy tongue that you have—I'll never be bored when you're about!"

"I find it hard to believe that nothing was ever said about this chain of circumstances."

"Well, you must see that there are many things which are generally known, but seldom discussed. Nonetheless, everybody knows these things and no one says anything. I will say that it put my family high on the list of eligible connections, despite the lack of a title."

"I am surprised that there was no title bestowed."

"Much better not, it could have led to unnecessary complications."

Just then the carriage stopped in front of the house; he helped me down; while he was waking Adele, I made my escape. As I walked into the house, Leah came up to me with the news that my Cousin had called and that he wished to speak to me. She said that he had gone home and would await me there.

I wondered what St. John wished to say, I had a feeling that I was about to hear his views on Mr. Rochester's projected wedding plans. Luncheon was waiting, and I felt the need to fortify myself before facing him, I ate what I could in spite of a certain amount of nervous anticipation of his disapproval.

After the meal, I made my way to the Parsonage; I found my Cousin in his Study—apparently working on his sermon for the week. He looked up as I came in--"Good Afternoon, Jane, I see that you received my message."

"Good afternoon, Cousin, I came as soon as I could get away. Was there something you needed?"

"Yes, I want an explanation for what that fellow Rochester meant when he told me this morning that he intended to marry you."

"Well, I believe he meant no more than he said, for he has told me the same thing."

"He has? And you accepted his suit?"

"Of course I did, he said that he loved me, and I must confess that my feelings are the same for him."

"Jane, he is a great deal older than you, and a very wealthy man. Are you certain that these matters did not influence you?"

"I would not choose my future life partner on the basis of either of those things. We have a mutual regard and respect for each other. That is what I think to be of primary importance in a relationship such as marriage."

"I was told that he took you shopping in Millcote this morning. I hope you do not allow him to give you too many things at this time. It would not look well if you were suddenly to appear in costly embellishments."

"St. John, I hope I have been taught better than that! I am certain that he would like nothing better than to deck me out in everything money can buy and show me off as a prize acquisition; but I have already made it clear that such elaborations upon my person will have to wait until we are married—and even then I may have to curb his enthusiasms lest I be buried under a mountain of frills and flounces! We went to purchase my wedding gown and to have some garments made up for the trousseau. Really!--do you think me so easily swayed that I would be tempted by finery?"

"Well no, I should hope not. Speaking of Temptation; I hope you do not allow him to take too many liberties at this time."

"I have already told him that he must not—do you think me so careless with my reputation that I would allow an excess of familiarities before the time was right."

"I should hope not—but it is easy to be led astray—I am very concerned for you."

I was rather exasperated by now with his solicitudes, I took my leave of him and returned to the house.

(1) Wilmot was the Earl of Rochester's family name.

(2) Roundhead was the nickname for religious fundamentalists of the 17 C., it had to do with the type of hairstyle they favored. They were not usually supportive of the Monarchy.

**So, that was the infamous shopping trip--I hope you liked my little sidelight on the Rochester family history--it could have happened. Next, we'll go walking in the garden.**


	14. Chapter 14 A Walk On The Wild Side

**A/N A surprise for you loyal readers--Today is a certain beloved author's birthday--Happy Birthday Charlotte! And now--a little romance.**

A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE

What a beautiful evening it was; the sun was floating down the western horizon as though in a rose-pink sea filled with dark purple clouds like islands, floating in its immense space. I wished that I could be in a boat in the sky exploring all these new and exotic lands. What wonders might I see were I up there? I had heard of birds just the color that the sky was now—Flamingos they were called—odd-looking, perhaps even ungainly, but such a gorgeous tint!

There were people like that; odd in some way, yet with some wonderful outstanding thing about them that drew one's attention away from any defects they might have. I smiled at my thoughts—I knew where they were tending. Mr. Rochester, when I had first known him, had seemed rude and abrupt in his manner—some would have called him ill-favored in his appearance also. It was a strange thing, but I never thought about these characteristics of his any more. The longer I had known him, the more I liked him; it was a thing that had nor rhyme nor reason to it. He had become a friend—and now, more than a friend. He had asked me to marry him, he loved me—and, I loved him so much that I was almost afraid of the way it made me feel!

It was like the curry we had had for dinner one evening, as an experiment of sorts, I suppose. Very highly spiced, almost overwhelmingly so; yet after tasting it, everything else seemed bland by comparison!

I had been walking through the garden all this time, now I sat down on the curb of the fountain—admiring the way the sky had tinted the water in pinks, and roses, with a hint of vermillion. I could see my face reflected in the water also, as I dreamed about my little sailboat in the sky. There was a sound behind me, a foot scraping on the gravel, and I discovered another face reflected in the water next to mine. Mr. Rochester was standing behind me.

"Good evening, Janet," he said "its so beautiful tonight, I thought I would bring our little friend out for a swim." He opened his hands—and there was the little frog. He set it down on the edge of the fountain. Mr. Frog perched there for a minute, and then, ker-plop he was in the water, going along swimmingly, as one might say. A moment later, I heard a very satisfied little croak. "I do believe he's caught a bug for his supper." Mr. Rochester said, and glancing at me mischievously, he answered the croak with one of his own, "Ribbit!"

"You are absurd, sir!" I said, trying not to giggle.

"Absurd, am I? And what's all this 'Sir' business? My name is Edward, and that is what I want to hear you call me—unless you have some other pet name you prefer—hmm?--but I refuse to answer to 'Sir' when there is just the two of us." He tweaked my nose in good-natured reprimand. "Elf!" he said.

"Mr. Rochester," said I, glancing at him sideways to see how he would respond.

"Stubborn! There is only one thing to be done with you little twilight creatures and your enchantments and spells!" He put his arms around me and kissed me rather thoroughly. "I refuse to let you go unless you address me properly, as I requested—Edward."

"Ribbit!" said I.

There was a startled silence for a moment, and then he gave a shout of laughter. "Contrary creature, why do you plague me so?"

"Because..."

"Because why, little thing?"

"Because you rise to the bait so charmingly—just like a fish!"

"Ah, be careful with those references to the Animal Kingdom, or I might turn into a wolf!"

"But I am not on my way to Grandmama's with a basket of goodies!"

"How little you know of the matter!" he said, as he kissed me again.

We had strayed down the laurel walk during this discourse—there was a great Chestnut tree at the end of the walk with a bench built around it. He seated me and then he sat down also. His arm was around me, we were very close together, I put my head on his shoulder, I felt very contented. He was smiling as he looked up into the tree's great branches and heavy foliage, "Did I ever tell you that they call this the King's Tree?" he said. The story is that it was planted to commemorate his visit; indeed, some like to say that he dug the hole for it himself, he did have a great interest in horticulture, you know."

"Edward," I said, "what was all that nonsense with Blanche Ingram? You promised to tell me."

"That was an error on my part—I do confess it—y'see I kept expecting you to behave in the pattern I had seen in other ladies—but, of course, you were not like the other women, you were different. I hurt you when I was only trying to make you jealous. I thought maybe you would fall in love with me if I were not so available."

"That was very bad behavior on your part!" I said, trying to draw away from him.

He pulled me into his lap, "I like you when you're indignant, your eyes shoot sparks, and that tongue of yours—oh my! I can think of some things we could do with our tongues that might surprise you!"

"Wicked man! Let me go!"

"I will not—you owe me a forfeit for calling me 'wicked'!"

I became aware that various parts of me were responding to our mutual proximity: I was not sure how I felt about this; my thoughts were growing hazy; I was entirely too comfortable where I was. A distant alarm bell was sounding back in my mind—but I felt too lethargic to heed the warning. His hands were caressing me, there was a burning trail of kisses going down my neck, he slipped a hand inside my bodice at the same time that his tongue slipped into my mouth. I gasped and sat upright, galvanized in surprise

"What are you doing!"

"Making love to you—couldn't you tell? Did you like it?"

"But, we're not married yet—I don't think I'm supposed to like it until then!"

A roar of laughter came from him, "Oh you little imp—what fun I'm going to have with you! However, perhaps you are right, we should wait. After all, it's only a few weeks of torture for me, until I can turn back into a wolf--'Little Red Riding Hood'!"

"Doesn't there have to be a full moon also?" I inquired sweetly. "I think I should take to eating garlic—it's said to be a great deterrent."

"At your peril you do so!" he growled.

"Speaking of the moon—what has happened to it? The sky is quite dark and the wind is rising."

"I think I smell rain—I think we're going to be very wet if we don't hurry. Come along now, I don't want you getting sick!" We ran for the house, but were quite soaked before we could get there. We stood in the hall, dripping wet, he was trying to dry me off with my shawl, and kissing me as he did so.

"It's no use, you're too wet! Upstairs with you, and change out of those wet things, and go to bed before you take a chill!" he ordered.

"Yes, Mr. Rochester—anything you say, sir!"

Just then, there was a great flash of lightning, with a crack of thunder instantaneous.

"Edward!" I cried "What was that? Surely the house was not struck!"

"No, it was outside in the grounds somewhere. We'll check on it later when the storm lets up. Go to bed, my darling, all is well. Dream of me."

"That would more likely keep me awake for hours!" I went up the stairs, smiling. I slept soundly, however, never waking until the morning was well-advanced; and Adele came to my door with the news of the destruction of the Chestnut tree during the storm. It seems that the lightning bolt had split it in half.

**I hope you enjoyed that--we'll have a few more lovely evenings before dire things happen. No Vampires or Zombies--I promise!**


	15. Chapter 15 In Your Dreams

**A/N Here is a different aspect of togetherness to consider.**

IN YOUR DREAMS

"I thought I would never get you away from that dratted schoolroom of yours today!" he grumbled.

"You missed me, then?" was my innocent reply.

"I miss you all the time when we are not together—if you were not here with me, I would go to Hades itself to find you!"

"Would you indeed? But I hope you would not make the same mistake that Orpheus made."

"Which was...?"

"Looking back to see if she was following—his impatience cost him Eurydice once and forever."

"Janet, my darling, the solution is a simple one—I would dwell in Hades itself if there were no other way to be with you!"

"Mmm, what sort of a pet would Cerberus make, do you think?"

"Definitely not to be allowed in the house, _I _think—just consider the state of the carpets, if you please!"

"Oh! Oh! That's not fair! You are making me laugh and then I"ll have the hiccups!"

"Shall I kiss them away?"

"Is that possible?"

"Maybe—want to give it a try?"

"Not just now, if you please, since I haven't got any hiccups to dispose of. Still, I must thank you for the kind offer."

"Ever at your service, my love—er, was that a giggle—or a hiccup?"

"Ever hopeful, aren't you? It was a giggle—you are being very silly tonight. Too much wine at Dinner?"

"Not a drop—it must be the moonlight—Astarte's lantern has led men to folly since Time began."

"You are waxing poetic, sir—is that also the effect of the moonlight?"

"No, I believe that the Fairies have put a spell on my garden—I recall your saying that there were no Fairies left in England, but I do not believe that. I am sure that a few of them stayed behind and I think that they are in residence here at Hay Hill. I have always thought that there was something very special about this place. I am certain of it now.

"I meant to ask you why you were looking so thoughtful when I saw you just now, before we came outside. Your face was almost sad when I caught sight of you in the hallway—is something the matter?"

"It's nothing of any importance, truly—just some things that trouble me when I think of them."

"What troubles you, my love? Tell me, please."

"No, no, it's nothing at all."

"Nonsense! If it worries you—it must be something of serious import. Please share it with me."

"Well, these last days have been for me something like a fairytale come true, but you see, I am having trouble believing that it has substance—that it's real. That all of a sudden, my wishes will all be granted and that I—we will live happily ever after. It doesn't seem possible—real life isn't like that."

"Such a load of doubts as you are carrying about with you! What? Do you think I don't truly love you? I would have you know that the way I feel about you is something I have _never_ felt before, for _anyone_! It's a profound feeling that goes all the way to the bottom of my heart, it goes through me from side to side and from one end to the other. When you are sad, I know it without being told; when you are happy, my feet don't touch the ground. When we are together as now, I am aware that a part which I was missing has been found. Every day that I have known you, this feeling has grown stronger—I have no doubt at all that I will love you more and more as the years go by."

"How can you be so sure of this? Surely you have had other ladies you were...fond of?"

"It's like comparing a single candle flame to a raging forest fire. There is a similarity on the surface, but only on the surface—there's no depth to the thing. Does that soothe your anxiety?"

"There's this dream which plagues me. When I go to sleep, all is well—and then, there's a change—I hear voices crying out but I can't understand what they are saying. I see colors that have no form and then suddenly everything is dark like twilight, I can barely see where I am. I find myself lost in a vast space that goes on and on; there's a road, but it has neither beginning or end; I follow it because I must, but I don't know where I'm going. I know you are somewhere near but I can't find you, and I have no voice to call out with. I'm alone and I'm afraid; I'm cold and hungry; it's raining and I'm soaked through; I'm weeping in despair and there's no comfort to be found."

"Janet, come to me now—I want to hold you close to me. This dream of yours—what a dreary sort of picture you have painted. Please God, you will never have this dream again—it makes me feel so sad and apprehensive—I can feel everything just as you described it. As near as I can understand this, you are troubled about the future—our future; but you must know that I would never leave you to walk the path alone, in the darkness and the rain. I will always be with you, I will never leave your side—never doubt me in this. I am yours—entirely yours, now and forever more."

I looked up at his face—I could feel the sincerity of his declaration. I leant my head against his massive chest, I listened to the steady beat of his heart. I felt somehow calmer and reassured. My doubts were not totally banished—such an enormous change in my world lay ahead of me—I hoped to be equal to its challenges. I attempted a smile—a pale, wobbly thing it was at first—but then he returned the smile with one of his own, so warm and from the heart that my own poor little effort grew in strength to match his. No more needed to be said.

He held out his hand--"Look at this, Janet, this is a little silver bell tied to a silk ribbon—I know you cannot see it, but it is there just the same. I am going to tie this around your wrist—figuratively, of course, and the next time you have this doleful dream where you are all alone, I want you to ring it as loudly as you can. I will hear it and you will look up in your dream and find me beside you and you will not be alone again."

I was skeptical, "Does this work?"

"It will, if you believe it will. I told you that I would go to Hades for you; even stay there I had to, just to be with you. The description in your dream sounds very like that awful place—but if you are there, I will be there with you.

"Come now, there's such a beautiful evening—lets go enjoy it."

-xxx-

I stood in my room, brushing my hair as I prepared for sleep. I thought about his little conceit of a silver bell which would summon him to share my dreams. It seemed like a silly idea—but he had said that my belief would make it work. I looked at my wrist—there was nothing to be seen—yet I could almost feel the silken ribbon with the slight weight of the little bell—could almost hear its sweet chime. I smiled as I shook my wrist to make the bell ring... The knock on my door startled me—I called out to see who it could be—it was Mr. Rochester, of course—almost as if the sound of the little bell had called to him.

I was still dressed, only my hair was down—I met him at my door. "Will you sleep well tonight, Janet? Don't forget about the bell."

"I won't forget—I have it here," I held up my wrist.

He smiled that special smile of his—I felt its warmth go through me. He took my wrist and pressed his lips to it.

"I meant to ask you what color the ribbon was."

"It is red—the color of love. Go to sleep, my darling—may your dreams be as sweet as the sound of the little bell."

I did sleep well, for I was no longer alone in my dreams—I had a dear companion now to help me over the rough places in the road just as he had helped me over the stile a few weeks ago. The Future no longer troubled me with its apprehensions of inadequacy. I could take events as they came, secure in the knowledge that I would not be without support when I needed it. This was an aspect of love that I had never before considered—the security that having a partner brings.

-XXX-

I moved away from her door--still musing over that disturbing dream of hers. How could she feel that I might abandon her? I should never do such a heartless thing, particularly not to someone who believed in me so absolutely. How enchanting she had looked--standing in the doorway of her room; the light behind her shining through her loosened hair, casting a sort of halo around her. My little angel--my hope for a better life--I would strive to be deserving of her love. I had tried to give her gifts, but it seemed the only thing she wanted was...me.

**Next in the courtship series--a song at twilight--very sweet.**


	16. Chapter 16 Song of Songs

SONG OF SONGS

It was a beautiful evening, the perfect end to a wonderful day. I was so full of happiness these days that all I wanted to do was to float away on my own little current of bliss. I still had trouble understanding the depth of my feelings for Mr. Rochester. These were so strong that at times they left me with the sensation that I was melting from the inside out; all the strength would go from my legs and I would have to sit down; such was their power.

Sometimes only the sight of him would do this to me—it almost frightened me to be so powerless. Then when I was in his arms and he was kissing me—there was this feeling of heat that would rise inside of me—I felt as though I must be burning hot to the touch. It was all strange and new—I wasn't sure how I should react—or how I should behave.

I didn't want to disappoint Mrs. Fairfax—she had been concerned for my welfare in the past. I could understand her worry for my sake. I was aware that my lover had a decided bent for impetuous behavior—I could see that I would have my work cut out for me if I was not to have matters get out of hand. I would have to find a way to curb his reckless tendencies without his being aware of any contrivances. I decided to try an experiment that evening when we were together in the Drawing Room.

I asked him if he would sing for me—I had heard him sing during the house party and had noticed the fine quality of his voice. He was susceptible to flattery, as I had expected he would be. Of course, he wanted me to play for him—I hid a private smile at this demand—and succeeded in doing my worst at the keyboard! There was a definite waggle of the eyebrows at my poor performance, and I was forthwith excused from my labors.

The song that followed was so perfectly executed that it nearly undid all my reservations. He put such feeling, such power into his interpretation that I found myself searching for a new stratagem for the future, as another song like this one would come near being my undoing.

Drink to me only with thine eyes

And I will pledge with mine;

But leave a kiss within the cup,

And I'll not ask for wine;

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,

Doth ask a drink divine;

Though might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much hon'ring thee

As giving it the hope that there

It would not withered be;

But thou there-on did'st only breathe,

And sent'st it back to me,

Since when it grows and smells, I swear,

Not of itself, but thee!

Here was a pretty kettle of fish! I found myself unable to stop looking at him—I knew my whole heart must be showing in my eyes. Worse yet, I was crying from the sheer overpowering poignancy in the poetry of the words. He saw my tears and tried to comfort me, "Jane, darling didn't you like it? Was I so bad that my performance calls forth weeping rather than smiles?"

I could only shake my head at his inquiry—truly I was beyond speech at the moment. He came to me then and knelt down before me, took out his handkerchief to dry my tears, and then simply put his arms around me and held me close. At that moment, I wanted nothing better than to know that he loved me. If there were to be a way to define luxury, this would be what I wanted more than anything else: this whole-hearted sharing of a feeling with another person.

Presently he rose and taking my hand, drew me close, kissed my cheek, and bid me "Good night". I somehow wafted my way up the stairs and went almost immediately to sleep—I don't recall my dreams if indeed I dreamt at all—I just know that I slept very well that night with Ben Jonson's sweet words still echoing in my head--"Drink to me only with thine eyes...".

-xxx-

I stood there in the doorway—watching my darling as she went up to her room for the night. Just a few more weeks and she would not go alone—no, I would be with her. Hmph! Best not to think too much of the yet to come Future—I was already in enough discomfort from wanting to be with her. How had it happened that the day could no longer pass without her presence to make it complete? Always I had known that something was missing from my life; but until I had met my little fairy, I had not known what it was that was lacking. Now I knew, and I longed for the time soon coming when we would no longer have to part at night-time.

Odd little thing!--how she had wept at my song—she was full of surprises like that one! Of all the reactions—that was the one I had least expected—to have her so overcome with her feelings that all she could do was cry! I had intended to kiss her senseless—something I enjoyed doing—to see her flushed cheeks and to taste her sweet mouth—to feel her tremble in my arms—these were only the harbingers of a passion that few might have expected from this tiny creature!

Instead, I had found myself only wishing to comfort her—to stem the flow of tears from her lovely eyes—to hold her close and to give her the benefit of my sympathy—to share the empathy of the song's poetry with my beloved. Indeed, Love was more than Passion—it was a shared feeling, an indivisible bond stronger than Time, even stronger than Death—good heavens!--I was becoming morbid tonight! "Enough of this, Fairfax!" I told myself, "Take your own advice and go to sleep!"


	17. Chapter 17 The Firebird

**A/N Now a hint of things to come! The ride is getting a little rough!**

THE FIREBIRD

I was returning from a walk to Hay, when I heard the sound of a horse and the clatter of carriage wheels behind me. I turned to see who could be coming up the lane. It was Mr. Rochester, and he was driving the gig—he was back then from his excursions to Millcote and the vicinity. He saw me, of course, and pulled the horse to a halt, "There you are, Janet, well met indeed! I have been very busy clearing up all those bothersome little matters that might prevent one from enjoying their honeymoon trip! Here, up with you, sit here with me and tell me what have _you_ been doing to further matters."

He gave me a hand to help me up, and a kiss of welcome. I replied, "I have been packing, of course, but I must tell you that there seems to be a problem with the orders we placed with the shopkeepers in Millcote."

"Oh, indeed? What has happened?"

"Just as an example—there are too many dresses—and not in the colors I specified—pink and purple are the least of it! I shall look like some sort of Flamingo in those garments!"

"A Flamingo?--what an extraordinary notion! You do come up with the oddest inventions, little fairy! Indeed, I do not think you are at all like a Flamingo—you are much too pretty and dainty for that!"

"Flattery is not the way to win me over when I am upset with your machinations!"

"What do you suspect me of—if you please?"

"You went behind my back and countermanded my directions to the shopkeepers, didn't you? As a result, they sent not only what I ordered, but _your_ selections as well!"

He cleared his throat and looked around, then cast up his eyes and said, "Guilty—as charged! But my love, only consider how it will look when I introduce my little wife to Society and everybody pities you because I do not dress you as well as befits your station. I should look like a cursed pinch-penny, and not the model husband I wish to be thought."

"And if that were not enough, you sent for that outrageously extravagant wedding veil—more suited to a Royal wedding than our quiet little village affair! Really, Sir, if you continue at this rate of expenditure, we shall soon find ourselves in debtor's prison!"

"Not a chance of it!" he said smiling, "I can assure you that I could provide you with a hundred such trousseaux and never feel the pinch!"

"That's all very well perhaps, but I must tell you about something that happened last night while you were gone." We had reached the house by now, he helped me down, and escorted me into the Hall while the groom took charge of the carriage and horse.

"Well, come into the Drawing Room and have a cup of tea with me—I'm fair parched from my travels!" He rang for the refreshment and sat on the sofa with me. After Leah had brought in the tray, and we had served ourselves, he said, "Now, tell me what the matter is—surely it's nothing very terrible!"

"I'm not sure how to tell you what happened in my room last night; it was so strange, I still can't understand what occurred; or even think of a reason for it." I found the cup was clattering in the saucer, I hastily put it down.

"Jane, look at me, why are you so pale, are you cold? You're shaking all over!"

"The weather last night was very windy, and the wind made a lot of noise around the house—banging shutters and whistling through the cracks and crannies around the windows and doors. I had trouble sleeping—and there was a noise like a dog howling which came at intervals—it would start up just as I was starting to drift off, and then I would be wide-awake again.

"At last, the wind died down and the other sounds also. I was finally able to sleep—I do not know how long I slept though—a sound in the room had awakened me. I saw someone with a candle standing by the wardrobe—whoever it was, I could not tell, they were looking at my wedding dress and veil which had just been delivered that day, and which were now hanging on the wardrobe to keep from being creased."

"Someone was in the room with you? Are you certain you were not still asleep?"

"No, for I had tried the strategem of your little bell, and when it didn't work for me--I knew something was wrong."

"What happened next?" By now he had come to sit closer to me and had put an arm around me.

"Then this person set the candle down and took my dress and veil down from where they were hung. The dress they simply held up in front of them—but the veil was carefully placed on this person's head—and then she (I had by now decided it must be a woman in my room) looked at herself in the mirror. Oh, that was horrible! Worse was to come, though—she turned towards the bed and saw me sitting there staring at her. She threw the gown on the floor, and giving a cry of rage, tore the veil off her head, proceeding to shred it into rags! Then she seized up the candle and came towards the bed where I was still sitting—unbelieving of what I had seen." I paused—Mr. Rochester was looking very disturbed.

"Well, go on—then what happened?"

"I don't know—I think I fainted—I have only done so once before."

"What happened when you woke up? Who was with you?"

"It was morning and I was alone. Please, tell me who or what that was!"

"It sounds like some sort of bad dream, my darling. I think you have been worrying too much over the wedding and that which follows a wedding. There is no need for such anxieties—you are my greatest treasure—I could never mistreat you. I love you more than I can tell you—it is something that must be demonstrated, rather than spoken." Here he took me in his arms and held me close to him, caressing my back and arms, kissing me softly, soothingly.

I felt myself beginning to relax—then it occurred to me that he had dodged the question. I sat up suddenly, "It was not a dream." I said coolly.

"Not a dream?" he repeated, "But what could it have been?"

"That, I believe, was my question to _you_! It occurs to me that I have omitted an important detail from my story. When I awoke this morning and looked around the room, I found my wedding dress on the floor and that fancy veil of yours lay in shreds all around the dressing table!"

My words had an immediate effect on Mr. Rochester; his arms had surrounded me previously in a relaxed embrace; those same arms were now crushing me to him as though the world were about to end, and only he could thus save me. I struggled for breath in his hold; I could feel the rapid, heavy beat of his heart; and the convulsive shudders running through his strong body; I must have made some small sound of distress, because he gentled his hold on me. "Dear God!" he exclaimed, "You're all right though, you weren't harmed?"

"No, whatever-whoever that was did not touch me, although I did find candle grease on the bedcovers this morning."

His only response to this was to tighten his hold on me once more. After an interval, he spoke, "I cannot understand how this could be, my darling. Who would wish to harm you? It is a very strange thing indeed."

"The only person that occurs to me, would be Grace Poole, she is so odd in her behavior—yet I didn't think that was her..."

"Well you were only half-awake, after all—that might have affected your perceptions."

"Perhaps, but I wish you would send her away—how can I feel safe with her in this house?"

"Shh, shh," he soothed me, "Just consider this; tomorrow is our wedding day, and directly we are married, we will leave Thornfield on our wedding trip; and while we are gone, perhaps things will change for the better—who knows. By the bye, what shall we do for a veil?"

"Sophie helped me with that today, we used the blonde netting I had purchased earlier for the purpose—before I knew about that imprudent extravagance of yours!"

"I just wanted you to look as lovely as possible."

I sniffed, "Fine feathers are for Peacocks, and Ostriches, and—Flamingos! I certainly have no need of such things!"

"Only one way to silence you, little scold!" he growled and proceeded to kiss and caress me more thoroughly than usual. I rather enjoyed this, I was noticing some interesting physical reactions on my part which were becoming quite exciting: there was a warmth and a throbbing sensation in areas which had formerly been quiescent; and I was aware of a rather embarrassing moistness in a place which I had always thought of as very private. He raised his head suddenly, and looked at me, "Enough of this, my girl, the wedding's not until tomorrow!"

I was a bit disappointed, but I knew he was right, things had started to get out of control just then—who would have thought that _he_ would be the one to put a stop to the rather enjoyable proceedings!

"It's getting late," he said, "Please promise me that when you go to bed tonight, you will lock and bolt your door—you evidently forgot to do so last night." I looked a bit shame-faced at this and nodded my agreement. "Off with you then, we've got an early start tomorrow! Good night, my little darling, sleep well!" And, of course, he kissed me again, just to show, I suppose, that he still had some in reserve!

**Ah me, what will tomorrow bring? Dare we guess?**


	18. Chapter 18 The Fateful Day

**A/N The Wedding Day at last--I know you've all been waiting for this. Don't say I didn't warn you!**

THE FATEFUL DAY

When I woke that morning, if I had known what was to happen, I think I would never have gotten up—or perhaps I would have tried getting up on the other side of the bed, in hope of changing the Future. But I was happily ignorant of the events to come.

Sophie came to help me into my unfamiliar new clothing. The dress was beautifully made—I had never before worn a garment that fit me so well, or that looked so stylish. I felt as though I must be wearing someone else's things—how could this be me? She fussed with my hair, brushing it, and pinning it in a style such as I had only seen in fashion plates. There was a wreath of roses to go with the veil. She handed me the pearl necklace for me to put on—I hesitated at wearing it. She tutted and took it from me and fastened it around my neck. Then the veil and the crown of roses—I looked in the mirror—I did not know myself. How could this be Jane Eyre? It was like seeing a ghost of myself.

Mrs. Fairfax came in just then, "Oh, my dear, you look lovely! It is good you are ready—he's pacing the floor out there—I think he must be nervous—and I always thought that was the Bride's prerogative!"

My hands were ice-cold, I was also in a state of nerves—a fine pair we were! "I am ready to go downstairs now." I said. I closed my eyes for a moment. _Just_ _take_ _a deep_ _breath_ _and_ _be_ _calm,_ _everything_ _will_ _be_ _over_ _soon,_ _and_ _then_ _you_ _can_ _relax._ _You_ _love_ _him_ _and_ _he_ _loves_ _you—you_ _will_ _be_ _happy_ _together._

I got down the stairs somehow—he was standing in the Hall below—waiting for me as I came down the steps. He came forward and took my hand, "How cold your hands are, my love—do you feel well? You are not faint, are you? Let's see if you can eat some breakfast before we go to the Church." He escorted me into the Breakfast Parlor and seated me at the table.

A cup of tea appeared before me, "Come now, you must have something besides the tea—here is some toast—can you manage that?" I made an effort, but it was the nervous excitement inside of me that kept me from being able to eat. Everything seemed to stick in my throat—only the tea made it down.

I waved my hands in defeat, "I cannot eat—I am sorry—my insides are tied in knots just now. I am sure I will be better later on."

"Very well, we will go to the Church then—you are ready, are you not? Here are your flowers," and he handed me a bouquet of white roses. "You look so lovely today—just as I have always dreamt my Bride would appear."

"Please, Mr. Rochester—I am trying to keep my feet on the ground! This flattery of yours is likely to cause me to be carried away—just like a balloon!"

"That's better, I was getting worried about you—only my little elf could compare her wedding day to a balloon ascension!"

I hid my smile at his rejoinder—truly we were so much in tune that the least reference on my part would lead to a matching reply from him. It was part of the joy of being together—even our thoughts were combined at times—to the point sometimes where I could not be sure where the one began and the other ended, let alone who had first had the idea. It was a level of intimacy I had never expected.

We were soon at the Church, although I had no idea how we had arrived. I only knew that I was winded from the rapidity with which we had done so. He saw my condition and stopped short before we could enter the building, "I am sorry, I am too eager to be done with all this—I pressed you too hard—I forgot that you cannot walk so fast—here we will rest a moment at the Lychgate before we proceed."

I was soon better—we entered the Church—pausing a moment for me to bring the veil over my face, and allowing him to leave his hat and cane in the pew. My cousin was at the Altar, waiting for us—his face was very stern, but such was his usual expression. The Book was open in his hands, he was ready for the ceremony to begin. We came forward to the railings—I felt so strangely detached from what was about to occur. It was as though I were a spectator—watching the couple who stood there.

He began: "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here..." He continued for some time with his Reading—I became aware that several people had come into the Church while he was speaking. I wondered who they could be—were they here to witness the wedding? St. John had reached the point where he asked us if we knew of any impediment to the marriage. We were silent, but the spectators were not.

A voice rang out, "I must object to the continuance of this proceeding. This gentleman is married already—I have the proof here in my hand!" I turned and looked at him—it was my Solicitor, Mr. Briggs, and he was not alone, there was another person with him.

I was looking at Edward's face; he had gone pale at first, and now was red with anger, his jaw was set in a look of defiance, his dark eyes were flashing—he spoke in a rather stifled voice, "What proof have you of this?"

"I have here a copy of your marriage lines from St. _______ in Jamaica, sir. They are dated from fifteen years ago. Will you deny their validity?"

"I will say that they are proof that a marriage took place—there is no proof that it still exists."

"I have a witness to the fact of your wife's continued existence, sir."

"Do you indeed? Just who might that be?"

"I have her brother here with me, Mr. Richard Mason."

There was a hiss of indrawn breath from Mr. Rochester; I saw a pallid face over Mr. Briggs' shoulder, yes, it was Mr. Mason—my onetime patient.

St. John spoke then, "Is your sister still living, to your knowledge, Mr. Mason?"

The reply was inaudible—Mason was as pale as my wedding flowers—at Mr. Briggs' urging, he cleared his throat and tried again, "I saw her last, three months ago, she was very much alive at that time." His hand went surreptitiously to his shoulder where he had been wounded.

My Cousin said, "It is true that when I first arrived here, I heard some rumor about a woman kept locked up at Thornfield Hall. No one seemed to know much about her, or her origins; but they _did_ say that she was insane. Would that woman be your sister, Mr. Mason?"

"Y-yes, poor Toni is mad, just like our Mother was."

"Your sister is married to this gentleman standing here?"

"Y-yes, I was a witness at their wedding."

St. John said, "Will you continue to deny the existence of your previous marriage, sir?"

Mr. Rochester bit his lip, and shook his head.

St. John closed his Book and said, "This ceremony is adjourned..." there was more, but it did not sink in at first—the flowers had fallen from my hand—Mr. Briggs was helping me to a pew—a wave of dizziness was taking me away from this disaster.

**Oops! "Cliff" has just stepped in--what will happen next? Tune in again next week for "the rest of the Wedding debacle"...**


	19. Chapter 19 When It All Went Wrong

**A/N Now for the rest of what happened in the Church-were you expecting this?**

WHEN IT ALL WENT WRONG

It had been my wedding day until: I was at the Altar standing next to him, already anticipating the joyful answers I would make to my vows; my Cousin was presiding over the service with the Book in his hands; the Clerk stood by as witness; all was in order, and then those men entered the Church.

The Lawyer, Mr. Briggs, called out that the service could not proceed because there was an impediment; my putative groom tried to bluff his way out of the difficulty, but Mr. Briggs had come armed with an important document, and Mr. Mason, a witness whose testimony could not be overturned. Mr. Rochester was married already—to Mr. Mason's sister—we would not have actually been married, the vows would not have been binding, I had been terribly deceived.

It was over, just as suddenly as that—all over. The man I had loved and trusted was a liar and a would-be bigamist. I had unknowingly been standing on the edge of an abyss of shame. I moved away from him a little—I felt cold, little shivers were running through me—the flowers fell from my nerveless hands. Someone reached out and kept me from falling—it was Mr. Briggs—he seated me in one of the pews. I just sat there, frozen and freezing, in a state of shock.

My Cousin very deliberately set the Book down and came towards me—he set himself between myself and Mr. Rochester. He then stated firmly and in no uncertain terms the "Law According to St. John": that I was going home with him; that there was to be no further contact; that he was going to marry me just as soon as the license could be gotten; and that he was giving up the Living as of that time.

He then walked me out of the Church and over to the Parsonage. Mr. Briggs came with us, saying that as he represented the interests of our family, there were matters that needed discussion.

"Very well, we will talk, but first I must see to my Cousin, she does not look well."

"Yes, of course, but this concerns her particularly, she will need to be present."

"Jane, do you feel up to this? This has been hard for you."

"Just give me a few minutes to collect myself, and perhaps I could have some water."

"Hannah," he called to the housekeeper, "could you bring us some tea—there are three of us,"

When she brought in the tray, he greeted her with the news that they were going to have to pack up and close the house because he was giving up the Living.

"Well, I never!" said she, "and what's your Cousin doing here in her wedding clothes and no groom beside her? What's gone with him?"

St. John only gave her a quelling look—she shuffled her feet and looked down—and took herself off all of a bustle—realizing suddenly that she had a great deal to do and not much time to do it in.

Mr. Briggs explained that our Uncle had sent him to stop the wedding because his acquaintance, Mr. Mason had told him of Mr. Rochester's previous marriage to his Sister. He commiserated with me on the matter of the deception which had been exposed that morning. He asked that I stay in contact with him since our Uncle was seriously ill and was not expected to live much longer. He then took his leave of us.

St. John turned to me and said, "I hope you're not in any difficulty that can't be easily resolved. Sometimes," and here he looked uncomfortable, "sometimes, the wedding vows are anticipated and that can lead to some awkward situations later on."

We were both rather pink in the face at this thought, but I simply replied that nothing had occurred which could have caused any problems of any kind, and that my betrothed had respected my wishes and had not been too warm in his attentions to me. I was a bit indignant that St. John could have thought me capable of being so foolish. I finally spoke my feelings-"Just because _I_ have been lied to—that does not make _me_ into a liar!"

St. John went on, "the real difficulty will be the gossip which is undoubtedly even now in full cry—everyone is going to be looking at your waistline and speculating. I'm sorry for this, because it means your reputation has been damaged and you've lost your profession; at least for the moment until things die down. That's one of the reasons I want to get you away from here. I thought that once we got the marriage over with, I could take you up North to stay with my sisters, at least until I can get a new Living. How does that sound?"

"I would like that very much—I have wished I could have spent more time with your sisters before, but then we were all called away to our employment."

"They will be on Vacation just now—so you will be able to spend some more time together. We will be leaving here in a few days—if that man comes to the door, you are not to speak to him—I will not tolerate his presence in my house. They will probably be sending your trunks over from the Hall—you may keep only what was yours before this farce began."

I simply nodded—I had no wish to keep those things which were not mine. I had always felt that they belonged to Mrs. Rochester, and I was not to be that person. I pulled the veil off my head as soon as I could disentangle it from my unaccustomed coiffure. Such a lot of trouble as Sophie had gone to this morning—and to no purpose in the end. "I am very tired—I could like to rest—please, could Hannah help me with my gown?" I unfastened the pearl necklace, I laid it on the table, "Please see that this is returned to him—I cannot keep it."

Hannah went upstairs with me and soon my head was on a pillow, and I was sinking into a dreamless sea of misery. I felt her drawing the covers over me, and then I was alone in my desolate state. All was changed—just in a moment's passing—yet not the change I had expected, hoped for, looked forward to; no, now I must marry my cousin, a good man; but one whose cold, austere personality would be hard to live with on the intimate terms which marriage demands.

Worse yet, what was I to think of the man I had _nearly_ been married to? I had thought I knew his heart—how could I have misunderstood it so? All the sweet words, gestures, smiles—were _they_ all lies? Had it all been some sort of monstrous trap, all part of the age-old prevarication that lures the maiden to lose her innocence? Dear God! What a fool I had been! St. John's veiled questions were suddenly seen in a new and horrifying light. Well, _that_ issue would be settled once we were married—my conscience was clear on the matter; no use to worry myself over what I couldn't change. I slept

-xxx-

I stood in the doorway of the Church and watched as my little love was taken away from me. _He_ had won her after all, in spite of everything. Just when my dreams had been so near to coming true—the disastrous facts had been revealed. In rushed Truth like a strong wind and blew my house of cards away! She was lost to me now—lost forever!

I thought of the pair of pistols—innocently deadly things—that were locked away in their case in my Dressing Room. Just to take one of them and put an end to this endless torment once and for all—but I could not do such a selfish thing—there were too many people depending on me. I would have to go on.

I found myself wandering in the Churchyard among the gravestones. Here were my parents and my brother, Rowland—how could my Father have put me into this agonizing misery? Had he no idea of the true state of matters when he sent me to Jamaica? I wished my Mother were still alive—she had always comforted me when I was as small as the hurts I had had then. Now that I was grown—my hurts had grown also—they hung over me now like a dark storm cloud of agony. I left Jane's forgotten roses on my Mother's grave.

Jane! You were my ray of sunshine—for too short a time! What am I to do without you?

**Yup-he's feeling pretty pitiful isn't he-how did he get into this mess to begin with? The next few chapters should shed a little more light on this. After that we return to the main story theme.**


	20. Chapter 20 Hands Across The Sea

**How did that unfortunate marriage come about anyway? Perhaps it was something like this.**

HANDS ACROSS THE SEA

Once upon a time there were two fathers—each one had a son he doted upon. No ill could be heard of these perfect ones; but there were others in the families—not so well thought of. So it came to pass some fifteen years earlier that there were two conversations between father and son—separated by an ocean and thousands of miles—yet astonishingly similar in their subject matter.

Here we find ourselves in Jamaica at the private office of Jonas Mason, Merchant—his son Richard is with him. Richard has recently returned from England where he has been attending Oxford University. Mr. Mason senior is discussing a family problem with his son.

"Well, my boy, you did well at Oxford, I am very pleased with you. I trust you made some good connections while you were there. Are those the latest styles among the London dandies? That waistcoat of yours is quite amazing!"

"Do you like it Father? The tailor assured me that it was 'bang up to the knocker' when he fitted me for it. Rowland insisted that I patronize Nugee—he said it was 'all the crack' to go there if I wished to be up to date in my dress!"

"Actually, you might even be ahead of the times, but I'm sure that the styles will catch up with you once your friends see what you are wearing. Did you mention Rowland just then? Would that be Mr. Rochester's older son?"

"Yes, Father, he was several years ahead of me at University, but we managed to spend some time together. A few drinks, some nights on the town, one or two excellent weekends at the family estate. You know the routine—he's a very good fellow."

"There's a younger brother?"

"Yes, Edward, he's a few years younger than I am—what a wild scamp he is—always busy about some rig or row—there's one of the grooms who's always with him where there's mischief to be done. I was hearing some tale about them dressing up as gypsies and Ned was offering to tell fortunes while Johnny was pretending that he wouldn't mind doing a little horsetrading if the terms were right. The horses, of course were from the stables at Thornfield—old Mr. Rochester was fit to be tied over the whole disgraceful episode!"

"Did you ever mention your sister?"

"I might have done so once or twice—I remember once when Rowland was going on about some young lady he had seen at a ball, and I told him about the beautiful girls we have here in Jamaica. I think I mentioned Toni then and told him that she was the toast of the town."

"Good, very good—as it happens, I have just received a letter from Rowland's father in which he asks about the possibility of a marriage between our families."

"What? Toni and Rowland?"

"No, Toni and Edward."

"But—Toni and Rowland are of an age—Edward is much younger!"

"My business partner is scarcely going to send his heir to Jamaica when he has a younger son to think of. He will send Edward because he wants to get him out of mischief and provide for him at the same time. I have let him know that Toni's dowry will be thirty thousand pounds—I expect that we will see young Edward here before long."

"Father, I've been hearing stories about Toni ever since I came back. Just little hints here and there; you don't think that she's turning out to be like Mother, do you?"

"So far Delie has kept her quiet, but I'm not pleased with her methods; when young Rochester arrives, we will have to move quickly. That nephew of hers, Cesar, will have to go; I've been fitting out a ship for the China trade; when it leaves port, he goes with it!"

"And Delie—what about her?"

"Delie would like to go back to Martinique—nothing easier than to pay her passage and then, good riddance! Remember—not a word of this to anyone."

-xxx-

Of course, the other conversation took place in the Library at Thornfield. Rowland and his father sat across from each other by the fireplace where a small fire was always kept burning to keep the damp from the books. They were relaxing over a pair of brandies and some excellent tobacco.

"These are marvelous cigars, my boy, did you say that you got them from young Mason before he departed for Jamaica?"

"Yes, Father, I thought you might enjoy them—Richard said since he was on his way home to the place of origin, that he scarcely needed to take them back with him."

"That's quite an interesting cut to your coat—surely you didn't go to Weston for that."

"It's the very latest thing, Father, Weston's is too conservative—this is from Nugee."

"Hmm, well it's all very well for you young fellows to puff and peacock yourselves about so that the young ladies will notice you—eh? Here we are talking about tailors when what really needs to be discussed is that disgraceful brother of yours!"

"Ned? What's he done now?"

"Well, it's a bit hard to keep up with all his doings—I believe he had something to do with a goat race that was run through the midst of Millcote on Market Day—there was a great deal of fuss about that—what with stalls being overturned in the general confusion and melee. No one was badly hurt, except for some chickens that came out rather the worse for wear—only fit for the stewpot, I fear. No, the real difficulty was Cousin Fairfax coming up here this morning to complain that his best beaver hat was up on the church steeple!"

"Ned, again?"

"Who else would think of it?"

"Goodness, he _has_ been a busy fellow—what do you plan to do about him."

"I think it's time he got married—yes, I know, he's a bit young, but he needs some responsibilities to keep his feet on the ground. Your friend, Richard Mason, has that pretty sister back in Jamaica, doesn't he? I plan to send young Mr. Trouble-maker to the Americas! Not a word to him—heed me on this—he's not to know a thing about the wedding bells! Jonas and I have got it all planned—neither of them is to know until the last minute!"

"Father, are you sure that you are doing the right thing?"

"Your brother will end up a wealthy man with thirty thousand pounds and a beautiful wife. Nothing wrong with that is there?"

"I certainly hope not."

"It will be the making of him—depend on it!"

-xxx-

Edward reluctantly enters the Library, his Father has sent for him to have a "little talk". The recollection of several recent pranks weighs on his mind; but it's time to face the firing squad of his Father's disapproval and get the ordeal over with.

His Father watches as his younger son comes into the dark old room. It is almost like seeing a younger version of his own father standing there—allowing for the lack of a white wig and brocaded coat, of course. There was the same square build—athletic rather than elegant—the black hair and eyes—the frowning brow. No doubt about it, the lad was intelligent—he had finished Oxford with honors. Strong also—with that blacksmith's set of shoulders on him—and a tireless horseman—at the head of the pack when Hunting Season was in. _I should be proud of him—look how he stands there—knowing that he deserves a dressing down, but ready to take his well-deserved medicine. What a surprise he's going to have this time!_

"Yes, Father, you wished to see me."

"Edward, I've been hearing things about your doings lately. I'm very displeased with you. It is thoughtless of you to be involving John in your antics—_you_ may be relatively immune from punishment due to our position in the County—but it is not the same thing for John. If you're not careful, he's likely to get into real trouble that we can't help him with." He looked at his son—Edward was biting his lip. "I see that you had not thought of the consequences."

Edward was looking at the carpet, one of his feet was tracing the pattern in the rug, he was a bit red around the ears. "I'm sorry, I should have thought...it's just that now that I'm out of School, I want to celebrate my freedom from all those books and dusty lecture rooms! I suppose I went a bit too far..."

"More than a little, I think; I had the Parson up here this morning, very put out because his best hat was up on the steeple! I think you might know how it happens to be there—eh?"

"Old fusty Fairfax! I didn't care for that sermon about 'The Gadarene Swine' and his not-very-subtle reference to goats as a comparison for pigs!"

"I was not pleased either—but not for the same reason, of course. It reflected badly on you and your doings since you've been home. I am not very proud of you just now. Stop digging at the carpet with your toe—you'll wear a hole in it! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"Yes sir!" He straightened up, the suspicious glitter of a tear in his eyes, his olive cheeks still slightly flushed.

"It seems to me that you need a change of air, young man, and some responsibilities as well. I have some business matters in Jamaica that could benefit from a closer look. I propose to send you off to Jamaica within the week—I'm certain you will benefit from a trip to the Americas. Be sure to look up the Mason family when you arrive. Old Jonas does business with me and you know Richard, of course, he visited here several times. They tell me that he has a very pretty sister—but all the girls in Jamaica are pretty—why I remember... Never mind that, where were we?"

"Putting me on a ship bound for Jamaica, sir."

"Yes, and before you depart—kindly be sure to make amends to your Cousin Fairfax."

"Yes, Father, I will."

"Tell me if you can, where did these books come from that are here on the table?"

"Those? Oh they're just the 'prize' books I was given when I finished my studies."

"That's quite a tidy bundle, Ned—to tell the truth, I think you outdid us all with these—so many!"

"It's several years worth—I just thought, that maybe it would be as well to shelve them here with the other books."

"Very well, I'll have it seen to; you'll be at Dinner, of course, no more japes in the neighborhood for you!"

"No sir, of course not."

The father watched as his son left the room. "_I hope this will prove to be the right thing for him!"_

**The next chapter will deal with the history of Bertha Antoinetta Mason-Rochester (Toni)-it was very interesting to write.**


	21. Chapter 21 The Shadow Wife

**A/N-I've hinted that i would tell you Bertha's story-here it is-what I think might have happened. Getting inside her head was...very interesting.**

THE SHADOW WIFE

I hardly know when it started, just that one day I saw a shadow in the corner of my room. The next day it was a little larger and the day after that even more so. After a while, wherever I went, the shadow went with me. No one else seemed to know that it was there; not my brother Richard, not my Father and there was no way to ask Mother because they kept her locked up in a separate house from ours. It was no use to ask Felix either, because my little brother never spoke—he just hummed—sometimes loud, sometimes soft—but never a word did he say.

I sometimes thought that my nurse, Delie, could see my shadow; but there was never any way to get Delie to tell you something if she did not wish it. "No Miss Toni, I don't know what you talking 'bout—I don't see nothing, me." Then she would grab hold of her amulet and cross herself for extra protection.

As I grew older, the shadow became more than a companion—it was my darker side; she had a name which she whispered in my ear one night when I was tossing and turning in my bed, "Call me Zoolah," she said, "The moon is full tonight—there is a storm coming, but tonight is clear—come out to the garden and we will dance in the moonlight." I went outside, and I danced to the sound of distant drums, and the cicadas which were very loud that year. They found me and made me come back into the house, my bare feet all dirty and bruised, my nightgown wet with dew, my hair in tangles—but for a while I had been free—so free!

When I was sixteen, there was a big party for me and I was presented to Society. Now I could put my hair up in beautiful hair styles such as I saw in the Fashion papers. I had pretty dresses and could go to parties and dance with young men. Zoolah liked the parties, she liked the pretty dresses, and she liked the young men—especially the young men. Zoolah had definite ideas about things that she and I could do with young men—Father would have been very angry if he could have heard Zoolah whispering in my ear. "Look at that one, Cherie, how he struts about—mmm, but such a form and how closely his trousers cling to him, eh?"

More and more, I would slip out of the house at night and roam about the garden. One night when the drums were louder than ever, Zoolah suggested that we go to see where they were. It was a long walk out of the town, but the moon was bright and we could see the road very clearly. At last we could see a bonfire with shadowy people moving about—that was where the drums were. The people there were dancing in the light of the fire, and soon I was dancing too. It was wonderful, I almost thought that I could fly like the terns which I would see when we went to the shore.

Delie found me, she was very upset with me and ordered me to leave and go home. "These not your doings, Miss Toni, you not belonging to be here, you must go now 'fore they find you not home like you 'spose to be." She called one of the young men away from the dance, "Here, you, Cesar, you take Miss Toni back to her house where she 'spose to be, y'hear?"

He brought out a pair of horses and put me up on one while he took the other. I looked at him, he was very handsome for such a dark man and I liked the look of his body—I wondered what it would be like to kiss him—Zoolah was giggling quietly behind me while these thoughts went through my head. I said, "Cesar, do you think I'm pretty?"

He looked at me appraisingly, "You're not too bad to look at."

"Cesar, do you have a girl—someone special?"

"Used to have—she went with someone else."

"Cesar, before we get to my house, would you kiss me?"

"What, here in the middle of the road?"

"No, over there in the grove—it's quiet and dark and no one will see us."

"Yes, they will; there's a watchman there so that nobody will steal the mangos. Wait til we get down the road a little further—I know where there's a barn no one is using."

"You've done this before!"

"Maybe I have, but I don't mind doing it again—you're very pretty."

Zoolah was laughing inside my head where he couldn't hear her. He helped me down from the horse, his hands lingering as they slid on my body. Oh how I loved the way it felt—I wanted more—much more. He put his hand on my back and urged me into the barn, the smell of hay intoxicated me. My breath was coming more quickly as I turned to face him—I pulled his face down to mine—our lips met—his mouth devoured mine. It was fantastic, his hands slid down my back, pressing me tight against him. I could stand no longer, we went down into a pile of straw together, his hands pulling at my clothing, my fingers fumbling with his buttons—until we were naked together. His hands were hot, his mouth was demanding, his body was urgent and I was eager to know all the secrets that had been kept from me because I was a "proper" young lady.

I learned a lot that night with Cesar. His comment was, "I didn't know you hadn't done this before—you should have said something."

I said, "But I liked you and I wanted to know how it would be to do this with somebody I liked. When I get married, I might not like the husband they choose for me, but I will have to do this anyway."

"Hmph! and your husband will not like it if he knows you have been doing this with someone else. Best let Delie know what you've done—she will know how to handle things so that no one will guess your secret."

"Cesar, I-I liked this very much—how soon can we meet again?"

"Tell Delie, she will arrange it all, if it suits her!"

"Sh-she will? Why would she do that?"

"Delie is my Tante, my Mother's sister—she will be glad for me—for us."

He took me home then—I slipped back into my room through the window and lay in my bed still filled with excitement from the experience I had shared with Cesar—I liked him very much—perhaps I was in love with him. It hurt a little bit, but I knew it would soon be healed, and I could go back to Cesar again. Zoolah was singing in my head—just a nonsense song—I was glad she was happy—I was happy too!

Delie came to me in the morning, "Cherie, Cesar told me what you did last night with him. That can make big trouble for you—don't you know no better?"

"Oh, Delie, it was so wonderful, I want to be with him again!"

"You foolish little girl—what gonna happen you catch a baby from this?"

"But we're not married—only married people have babies!"

"Good Lord, don't they teach you little girls no better than that? Here, drink this special tisane I make for you 'gainst you startin' a child—this not a good time for that to be happenin'! You startin' a baby, you not be goin' to no parties for sure! Your Papa find out what you be doin' he gonna whip you and then he kill my beautiful Cesar!"

"No no, Papa wouldn't do that!"

"Yes, he would—people like us—we got no power 'gainst those that got money. You gotta be careful, Miss Toni, "cause one of these days, he might find out what you been doin', and then he lock you up—just like your Mama!"

I was silent, even Zoolah was quiet—we knew she was right.

-xxx-

I was twenty-one now, and Zoolah was my constant companion at the parties I attended. My brother, Richard would bring me and take me home, but during the festivities he would disappear to drink and smoke and gamble with the other men. I would sit with the other young ladies and gossip and dance all the dances. The night would soon pass and I would be home at the dawn.

Cesar would be waiting for me in my room and we would while away the long morning with each other. Then Delie would come with my tisane and Cesar would slip out the back way to his duties in the stables. The other servants must have known what I was up to, but they were in a conspiracy of silence; besides, they were afraid of Delie—they said she had "powers". I had seen them sometimes when her back was turned, making the hooked finger sign against the "evil eye"-yes, they were wary of her.

Sometimes I thought Cesar could hear Zoolah's voice—she had been saying that it was very nice to be with him; but some of the others were very good to look at and maybe they would be a little different in the way they did things—more exciting, even. One time when I went to one of the bonfire gatherings, I found Cesar with a group of his friends and cousins—they were smoking something that didn't smell like tobacco. "Here, Cherie, come try this good stuff—it's very relaxing."

I liked it, even though it made me dizzy—they carried me off to a quiet place—we spent a long time there, several of us. Zoolah was very pleased with their attentions and wanted more.

"Hey, Cherie, you're wearing us out—Cesar, how come you didn't share this fine woman before this?"

Delie came and put a stop to it-"What the matter with you young fools? My Master hears of this, you'll get a beatin' that will kill you!" She made Cesar take me home, and this time the tisane she made for me was unusually bitter. "There now, Miss Toni, better you don't have no babies at all—you gettin' too wild for me!"

-xxx-

It was several years later when the young Englishman came. My Father told me that I was to marry him. He was not too bad to look at—not very handsome, perhaps—but his body was very muscular and well-developed. Zoolah liked the look of him—she thought we could have good times together.

Things were arranged very quickly—Cesar disappeared, I was distraught without him, but they hurried the thing through so fast that I was in the Church before I knew it. We were married—I was now Mrs. Edward Rochester—he called me by my first name—no more "Toni"-I was now Bertha Rochester. I was a new person, but Zoolah was still beside me, inside me—my dark sister.

After a while, I did not like my new life, my husband did not suit me—I missed Cesar and his friends. Zoolah told me I should go back to the bonfire when the moon was full—and dance—and maybe do a few more things besides. I went, but Cesar was not there and his friends would not talk about him—they were sharing some white powder—I tried it—what a fantastic feeling it gave me! I felt powerful—I could almost fly, higher than the flames of the bonfire! We had a very good time together—I never wanted to go home—back to my boring, proper husband and his idea of a correct married life.

Zoolah told me that she was going to take charge of things now, and that I should just rest and not concern myself. So, I let Miss Toni/Bertha Rochester go to sleep in a back corner of my head and watched while Zoolah indulged herself in doing all the things she liked best. She was very popular with Cesar's friends—I giggled at some of the things they were doing.

But then they found us—my husband was very upset with me—the doctors came and said I would have to be locked up. I fought and screamed, but it was no use, there were too many of them and they were stronger even than Zoolah. Worse was to come, some time later, I found myself on a ship—my husband said he was taking me to England.

I do not like it here; it is cold and the sun does not warm me. Everything looks wrong to me—not like Jamaica—no mountains, no sea—there are no palm trees and the flowers are very pale. Zoolah is not happy—she is very angry—when my husband comes to see how I am—she wants to kill him. He does not come very often—they say he goes away, travelling. Zoolah wants them to let her out so that she can travel too!

**So now you know what really happened-remember she was five years older than he was-and neither of them really knew that they were being railroaded into marriage, and then it was too late. Jane and Edward will say farewell in the next chapter-but that won't be the end of the story.**


	22. Chapter 22 A Return To The Garden

**Here begins the hard stuff-there will be lots of angst-get your hankies ready!**

A RETURN TO THE GARDEN

St. John and I would be leaving Hay tomorrow; I could stay away no longer from the place where I had been so happy, it drew me to itself with a thousand threads of memory. I went that night to the old garden at Thornfield. I wandered the paths and smelled the flowers as I remembered the nights when I first knew what love could be like.

There I saw the lightning-struck tree; it seemed a symbol of what had happened to me on my wedding day. The two halves were slowly dying now that they were no longer joined together. Sunk in misery and self-loathing at my credulous behavior, I felt as though I were dying also.

Then a voice I knew well came from the shadows, "Jane, I scarcely hoped to find you here. We never had a chance to clear the air the other day. I have desperately wished to speak with you, to beg your pardon for my actions. Please allow me a few moments before you go. They tell me you will be leaving soon."

I stood there—uncertain how to proceed—should I let him speak his piece—or should I turn my back and walk away? I was curious—I stayed to hear him out.

"Come", he said, "here is a seat in the arbor, sit and be at rest while I tell you the why of all these mysteries of mine. You will have understood that I married Richard Mason's sister in Jamaica some fifteen years ago."

"Yes, sir".

"Janet, are we back to 'sir'? That pains me more than you can know."

"I think it best."

He sighed, but let it go. "It was my father's brainstorm, he did not wish to divide the property between my brother and myself and so he thought that my marriage to a wealthy woman would solve his dilemma. He knew that the Mason family had a daughter with a large dowry—30,000 pounds—a truly magnificent amount. He never wondered why the sum was so large, he simply thought of the money and wished to secure it for my benefit.

"So, he sent me out to Jamaica without telling me of his plan. I never spent much time with her before the marriage, which happened so suddenly that I was stunned. It seemed as though one moment I saw her at a dinner party, the next moment found me in the Church putting the ring on her finger. They were very careful indeed not to let me in on the family secrets before it was too late for my salvation from the trap they had lured me into.

"I wrote to my father and told him of the situation—this woman was insatiable and uncontrollable. She drank heavily, used drugs, and was indiscriminate in her friends—some of whom seemed entirely _too_ friendly for my liking. Furthermore she was personally unclean and thought me entirely too delicate when I indicated my dislike of her foul breath and worse language. It was impossible to have a settled home with a civilized routine, due to the odd hours she kept—up all night—gone sometimes for days—who knew where or with whom. The crowning blow came when they told me that she had lost her reason and so would have to be locked up and, of course, there would be no way that the marriage could be invalidated.

"Four years had passed while all this was happening and in the meantime my father had died. It seemed that he had not shared the news of my marriage with his acquaintances and I was to be very thankful for his omission when I returned to England on the occasion of my brother's unexpected death."

"There was nothing you could do...? A divorce, an annulment?"

"Janet, love, if King George himself couldn't shed his notorious wife—what hope had I? (1)

"I brought her back here with me, she was my responsibility after all. I locked her up at Thornfield and found as reliable a woman as I could, to take care of her; and there she has stayed for the last ten years. Grace, unfortunately, is fond of drinking when she feels depressed and then my wife escapes to do whatever may occur to her clouded mind."

A shudder ran through me. "She was responsible for the fire in your room, the attack on Mr. Mason, and that horrible vision I saw when my wedding veil was torn apart—that was her?"

"Yes, she did those things, even though I told you otherwise at the time."

I put a hand to my throat, I was shivering all over—this monster had been in the same house with me and I had never suspected a thing! I became aware that Mr. Rochester had taken hold of my hands and was chafing my wrists. "Jane, you look faint—are you not well?"

"How could you do that," my voice was shaking, "why did no one suspect the truth?"

"Well, you must understand that it was known that she was here; the thing of it was that nobody knew _who_ she was, and they never guessed the truth."

"But Mrs. Fairfax always turned my inquiries aside when I asked about the strange things I heard."

"She was only following my orders, which I had given long before you ever came to Thornfield. I was afraid that no governess would stay if she knew about my house's peculiar inmate."

"So, you brought her here, and then what did you do?"

"Well, I had a lot of money and I decided to enjoy it. I went to Europe and had a high old time for a while; I went to plays, and spas, and the opera. I took in the sights, travelled about, and enjoyed the company of a few boon companions. I got a bit lonely from time to time, and tried to establish a closer relationship with some of the ladies I met. But it never worked out—I already told you about Celine—the others were no better, for they all seemed more interested in my pocketbook than myself."

"I don't think you were very happy."

"You have it precisely, I was miserable, and I saw no way to a better way of life as things stood. I decided to at least alleviate Adele's situation. I had become suspicious of the woman she was staying with in Paris. I became convinced that she was only waiting for a good offer for the child and then Adele was likely to end up in the same way of life that her mother had led. I stepped in and asked Adele if she would like to come to England and live in my house here. So, I brought her to Thornfield and asked Mrs. Fairfax to find her a governess to teach her English and to prepare her for School. That's more or less how things came about.

"A wonderful thing happened when I came home the last time; thoroughly bitter and disillusioned by everything I had hitherto seen and done. I met you. I was shocked to find myself so thoroughly entangled in emotions I had given up believing in long before. No day was now complete for me unless I had set eyes upon you at least once. No evening bearable unless I could speak with you, I tried to bury my attraction to you, I did my best to seek distractions, but it only got worse.

"The night you saved my life from the fire, I came so close to telling you then how I felt, but I hesitated. I could not tell if you returned my feelings. I was also ever conscious of my impediment to happiness. I didn't want to hurt you by making you the only offer open to me, at the time—to ask you to be my mistress. But it was becoming harder and harder for me not to say something that would betray my feelings.

"I decided to stir the pot a little—therefore the house party—Blanche has always had a tendre for me—I thought to exploit this by paying her some gallant attentions. I tell you I had trouble keeping a straight face at times—Lady Ingram makes herself so ridiculous with her pronouncements sometimes! But I hurt you deeply with my little game—I saw you were growing paler and quieter—but I didn't know why; there was no opportunity for us to talk—my invasive house guests were everywhere!

"Then you were called away to Gateshead, to your Aunt's deathbed, and I had disposed of the problem with Blanche by means of a well-placed rumor which led her and her family to believe that I was not as wealthy as I seemed to be. They, being in need of money, lost all interest in me when it appeared that I could not meet their financial needs. It was a relief to get out of that entanglement—the mere thought of Lady Ingram as a mother-in-law gives me the cold shudders!"

"But you couldn't have married Blanche!"

"Quite true—but the Ingrams didn't know that."

We were silent for a while—I thought about what he had told me—not all of it put him in a very good light—which showed that he was, at last, being honest with me. "So then, if you were not free to marry—what was all this wedding business with me about?"

"Ah, there it is at last, my little spitfire has finally come to life. I was growing worried that you had changed your colors."

"Not in the least! You do need to explain yourself. You were on the brink of putting me in an extremely bad position and well you know it! Or, was it that you didn't intend for me to discover your awful deceit. A fine mess we might have had a few years down the road—what would we have done about the children?"

"The children? What children?"

"The common result of cohabitation is offspring—a fact of life of which you should be well aware!"

"Deuce take it all, it frankly was my last concern at the time!"

"So I can well believe! What was your plan, a nice honeymoon and then once you got bored; farewell and on to the next adventure? Was that your grand object then?"

"No, it was never like that—I never felt that way about you. When I told you that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I meant just exactly that—nothing less. The love I have for you is not the sort of feeling that vanishes; it only grows stronger as time passes. It consumes me—I am helpless against it. I can't sleep at night for thinking of you—the day goes by—the minutes like hours because you are not with me. I walk in the garden here, surrounded by all this natural beauty and your face is reflected in every flower that grows by the path; their sweet perfumes are nothing to yours. You are everywhere I look, everywhere I go, and I cannot cease to think of you, and long to hold you once again close to my heart with your breath on my cheek, your heart and mine beating together. That is how I feel; that is what I wished for—a lifetime, not a fleeting moment."

Tears were running down my face when he paused—there was such a terrible pain tearing at me—why did our love have to be so wrong? I longed to stay, but knew that I could not; all of my upbringing with its warnings against Sin and the dire consequences of going to Hell rose before me and stood between us as immovable as a wall. I started to turn away, I should be getting back before St. John noticed my absence.

"Jane!" he cried, "don't go, there's something else. He said he was going to marry you—is that what you want? Do you care about him that much?"

"My choices are a bit limited at this time, sir—either I go with him or I stay...here. And that's not possible. I was in the village this morning and it was rather unpleasant. I could hear the whispers and glimpse the sly peeks behind the window curtains. The word is out and they are all convinced that I must somehow be to blame, and they are avidly waiting for more of the story."

I was still crying, he had noticed and was offering his handkerchief for my tears. I took it and tried for some control. "I must go with him, it is not what I wanted. I esteem him, he is a very good man, and it is what I will have to do. I will try to be worthy of him."

He gave a deep groan of pain at my words. "It's not right, it's not the way things should be. Promise me this, please—my little...friend—if ever you should need my help, for any reason, at any time—please don't delay in asking me to come to your aid. Promise me?"

Tears filled my eyes again as I reached up and caressed his cheek briefly. "You have my promise. Now, I must get back, I have been away too long."

I hurried away—I was nearly back to the parsonage when I realized that I was still holding the handkerchief he had given me. I hurriedly tucked it up my sleeve.

-xxx-

An owl was giving its mournful call in the wood as I walked into the parsonage kitchen. I looked around for some sign of St. John but his hat was not on its customary peg. It seemed that he must still be out on a last pastoral visit. I washed the traces of tears from my face and prepared to go to bed, it was very late, and we were due to leave early in the morning. St. John surprised me as I was about to go upstairs. He had been in his study and I had not noticed the light from his lamp.

"Jane, where have you been? I was out looking for you and could see no sign of you anywhere."

"I've just been for a walk—I couldn't sleep, and since we'll be leaving here tomorrow—and riding in coaches for several days—I thought a little exercise might be good."

He gave me a penetrating look, "I know where you've been, Jane, I saw you coming back from that place—I thought I had said there was to be no further contact with that man."

"You may have said that indeed, but I don't recall agreeing to follow your dictates, St. John! I went to see a place where I had been happy—that's all."

"He was there, wasn't he? You spoke with him, didn't you?"

"Yes, he was there, and I _did_ speak with him! He owed me an explanation for his behavior!"

"Was it a satisfactory string of feeble excuses for his conduct?"

"He clarified some matters that I had not previously understood."

"Are his sins now forgiven in your eyes?"

"The forgiveness of sins is not a specialty of mine—I leave such matters to the Church, of which_ you_ happen to be a representative."

"You are being impertinent, Jane."

"It is one of my failings, St. John, and I am fully conscious of it. I am tired now, it is late and I am going to bed. Good night." I saw he was not done with his speech, but I had heard enough for the night.

My last night in a place where I had been so happy that my hopes had soared higher than the larks. My last night in a place where my heart was breaking, and all I had to look forward to was a series of sad grey mornings. I was going to have to leave my heart behind me when I left, I had buried it in the garden last night when I said farewell to Edward.

As I was taking my dress off, something fell out of it—fluttering to the carpet. It was _his_ handkerchief, I put it under my pillow. At least I had something to keep near me and treasure—something of his. The initial "R" fortunately would not betray its origin either, as it could as easily represent Rivers as Rochester. It was a friend's attempt to comfort me, and I valued the comfort that it brought. My mind ran down like an unwound clock, and I was soon asleep.

-xxx-

_What a splendid day this had been—we had been married this morning, and had set off almost immediately on our Wedding trip. I was so tired from all the excitement of the last few weeks that I had fallen asleep in the carriage and had woken to find his arm around me and my head on his shoulder. I felt so safe, so protected, so loved—it was a wonderful thing._

_I looked up to find him smiling at me-"Well, sleepyhead, I see you know how to make the time pass quickly! We'll be stopping soon for the night, so here's your bonnet—just hold still while I tie it."_

_We were entering the courtyard of the Inn as he finished his task. He helped me down and ushered me into the parlor that had been reserved for us. "Now that I think of it—I don't believe you ate anything for breakfast this morning—did you? I thought not, we'll have people saying that I'm starving you. What is it? Too much excitement, is that the trouble? Here, try some of this soup and have a cup of tea—perhaps that will help."_

_How wonderful it was to be cared for—it was something so new to me—I felt as though I must be dreaming. The meal over, he took me upstairs to our rooms, there was a fire in the fireplace and he sat with me on a sofa in front of it. He was holding a glass of wine and exchanging sips with me. First he would take some and then he would pass the glass to me "Oh, not too much please—it makes me dizzy!"_

"_Well, I shall get drunk on kisses then, just to match you" He then proceeded to kiss me very thoroughly. "Let's see—I think this cheek here and this one over here, and such a delightful little nose and chin. Ah, yes, what's this?"-and he ran a trail of kisses down my neck. Somehow his clever fingers had undone my dress and I was suddenly aware that my body was reacting to this intrusion with thrills of pleasure and a level of excitement I had never anticipated. "Do you like this? Shall I show you more?" he said—I could only return his kisses—I felt so warm, so relaxed, and I was wondering what would come next—never expecting what would actually happen._

_There was a sudden, loud commotion outside the door. He looked at me regretfully-"I am afraid we're going to be disturbed my darling..."_

My eyes popped open—the dream was gone—Hannah was at the door to tell me that Breakfast was waiting, and that it was time for me to dress, as the post-chaise would be at the door in an hour's time. It was not the wedding day I had dreamed of—this was a different day and a sadder truth than I could have wished for. I prepared for my new life—with St. John.

(1) George IV was unsuccessful in his attempt to divorce his wife, Caroline of Brunswick. At his Coronation in 1821, she created a scandal when he had her locked out of Westminster Abbey.

**More to come-lots more!**


	23. Chapter 23 The Parting of The Ways

**Here we have St. John as the victor in the contest for Jane's hand. How is this going to work out? Wait and see...**

ANOTHER ROAD TAKEN—THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

The post-chaise came for us early—it was just past sunrise. I was wearing my best grey silk dress with a plain veil over my bonnet. My trunks had been sent over from Thornfield, but I had returned them with most of the contents; keeping only what had been mine from before the wedding debacle. St. John was ready also, he studied my dress with a raised eyebrow as he handed me the Prayerbook I was to carry in lieu of a posy.

"I had it made for Miss Temple's wedding—you know perfectly well that I sent everything back that _he_ gave me."

"It is perhaps a little fine—silk is rather ostentatious—surely you are not susceptible to vanity."

"This is a special occasion, is it not? What will they think of you if I do not present a suitable appearance?"

"Ah, perhaps you are right—very well then, let us be off. Hannah, you are to follow with the cart and the luggage. We'll see you in Morton—you have your funds for the trip?"

"Yes, Mr. St. John, I have it here all safe. I'll just wish you happy, sir, you and your cousin. I'll have the house all closed up, and leave the key with the Clerk, just as you said."

"Very well," and turning away, he helped me into the chaise, climbing in after me. The Postillion closed the door, mounted his horse and we were off to be married.

-xxx-

Knowing they were to go early that morning, Edward had been waiting for them to leave. When the signal came that the post-chaise was on the move—he climbed into his carriage and called to his new employee. "Jenkins, we are leaving now—remember I want you to keep that post-chaise in sight. After we see where they are heading—there will be further instructions." Jenkins touched his whip to his hat brim in acknowledgment.

Several hours later, they were in the city of L_, in front of the Bishop's residence. He sat in the carriage, grieving as he watched the other man usher his little Jane in the door. When they came out, they would be married, and he would have lost his only hope. How bitterly he reproached himself for his impulsive actions—if he had only kept silent on his feelings; but he had let them burst out without thinking of the consequences. Here before him was the result—his little darling lost to him, forced by circumstances to marry another man.

They were coming out now; a very sober pair indeed. Jane, very pale—her new husband hurrying her along, his arm around her, urging her forward; she very quiet, her eyes downcast, stumbling slightly as they reached the chaise and she looked up—across the Square—and saw him watching her from his carriage window. It seemed forever that their eyes met in silent communion, and then the moment was gone; they were in the chaise and it was drawing away.

Jenkins rode up to the carriage then, "Sir, what instructions do you have?"

"Follow them, see where they go, I think they are headed for Yorkshire. You have your provision for the trip? Here is a purse, if the sum is not sufficient—just let me know. I will be returning to Thornfield."

"Very good, sir, I will write as soon as I know their destination."

"Make sure they don't see you."

"No fear of that, sir, I learned in the Military how to make myself imperceptible to the human eye."

"Just another straw in the haystack, eh?"

"Something like that, sir." A flourish of his whip and he was gone in pursuit.

Edward sat there and then he roused himself from his contemplations. His fingers slipped under the edge of his cravat as he sought the beads of Jane's little pearl necklace, he fingered them for a moment, and then he rapped on the roof with his cane. "Home, John,"

The carriage went into motion as it left the Square on the way to the Highroad and Thornfield.

-xxx-

St. John turned a stern eye towards his bride, "He was there, wasn't he? That was his carriage in the Square, wasn't it?"

"It would seem so, St. John."

"He must have followed us here, is he still after us? If so, we'll stop and I'll have it out with him! This is intolerable!" So saying, he let the window down and looked back down the road—there was nothing in sight but a Tinker's caravan and a drove of cattle. "Hmph!" and he sat down again.

I closed my eyes wearily; it would be a long trip, and I would need to be in good form to deal with my autocratic bridegroom. I had no doubt I could manage him—men seemed to be much alike—dictatorial creatures all of them. I had a feeling that mine would prove to be the upper hand in the end—my fingers sought and found _his_ handkerchief tucked into my sleeve. My eyes closed and I slept while St. John read Revelations in his Bible.

-xxx-

Jenkins relaxed in the back of the Tinker's caravan, his horse securely fastened behind. His new friend had agreed to follow the post-chaise as far as the next town and perhaps farther—depending, of course, on the quality of the remuneration.

**That's right-Edward doesn't trust him to treat her well. So there will be someone keeping an eye on things. Of course, Jane is resilient and not particularly docile unless it suits her to be. Some interesting times ahead perhaps?**


	24. Chapter 24 Strait Is The Gate

**What happened next? We always want to know. This is Jane's side of the next few years.**

STRAIT IS THE GATE

I had been hard at work ever since we had returned to Morton. There was so much that I did not know about housework. Hannah was a great help to me, but she was not young and some of the work was rather heavy. I helped her as much as I could with cleaning the fireplaces, and the lamps. There was food to prepare, laundry and ironing to do, the need for countless buckets of water from the well. The floors needed sweeping constantly, the furniture had to be dusted and polished, the windows needed cleaning. There was no end to it—and when the house was set to rights, there was the garden to tend, the vegetables had to be harvested, the weeds needed pulling—the chickens needed their feed, and the eggs had to be collected before they started to hatch!

These were things I had never learned about in school, and I was astounded at the quantity of sheer hard work it took to keep even a small home running. I would fall into bed at night exhausted by my long day—only to have to rise early the next morning to begin all over again. St. John was so busy himself with his parish work that it never seemed to occur to him that I might be overburdened.

It was brought home to us some months after our wedding. For some little time I had been feeling out of sorts. I was experiencing a great deal of nausea in the mornings and I had begun to think that the likely cause for this was pregnancy. I had lost weight ever since our return; partly, no doubt, due to the stringent regime of work that I had been following.

I was out in the garden, trying to dig up some potatoes when I felt the first pain—there was a violent cramp in my midsection and I experienced a wave of dizziness. I fell to my knees, hugging myself against the sharp pangs. I groaned in my misery.

I heard a voice nearby, I raised my head—my vision was blurred, "Hi there, Missus—let me help you up!" I realized that Mr. Jessop had come to my aid. Mr. Jessop was an old soldier now sold out of the Army, who had recently appeared in the neighborhood; expressing a willingness on his part to do odd jobs for whatever consideration might be offered—his compensation usually took the form of a meal or two and sometimes a few pennies. He seemed to be reliable and hard-working.

"Here, Missus, best you sit down." and he upended the potato bucket and seated me on it. "What's to do with you then?—you're looking mighty pale!"

I was clutching my stomach and could not answer him—then came a surge of nausea and I cast up my accounts then and there. Mr. Jessop brought me a dipper of water from the well to rinse my mouth, and said he would fetch Hannah to me. While he was gone on his errand, St. John came home and found me still enthroned upon the bucket.

"What are you doing out here Jane? Are you sick—yes, I see you were. What is it—something you ate—you have not been very well lately, have you? Is nobody with you?"

"Mr. Jessop found me, I am greatly obliged to him, he has gone to fetch Hannah."

Hannah came just then, she took one look at me, and turned on St. John; "Haven't I been telling you that there's too much to do here, and she's never been trained to it! Now she's gone and made herself ill from working so hard—or wait—is it something else?" In an undertone, she asked me, _"Was you maybe in the family way, Missus?"_

I admitted that I had thought as much lately.

"_You hadn't said anything to Mr. St. John about it."_

I indicated that I hadn't been certain enough.

She then directed my husband to take me into the house, and asked Mr. Jessop to fetch Mrs. Stone to the Parsonage.

St. John heard her and asked why Mrs. Stone was wanted. Hannah's reply was that my state of health required it.

"'But Mrs. Stone is a midwife! Why? Oh I see." Here he laid me down on the bed and was promptly banished from the room.

"Go fetch your sisters from Moor House, we need them here." Hannah was in charge now, and even St. John knew better than to argue with her.

-xxx-

There was a period of a week or so when I was confined to my bedroom while I recovered from the miscarriage. When I emerged, it was to discover that several changes had been instituted. Hannah now had one of her nieces to help her in the house, and Mr. Jessop had been engaged to do the heavy work and keep up the garden.

My husband was apologetic about the burden I had been under. "It had never occurred to me that there was so much to do, or that it would be so hard on you; I have been thoughtless—and I am sorry for the grief it has caused you." He went on to tell me that while I had been laid up, a letter had come from Mr. Briggs, to tell us that our Uncle was dead and that his fortune of twenty thousand pounds was to go to the four of us, as we were his nearest relatives. St. John and I were now wealthy with ten thousand pounds between us and his sisters now had their dowries—they would no longer have to work. I was sad that my uncle had died without any opportunity on my part to know him; but I was glad that we now had enough money to live comfortably.

Ever since the loss of our child, I had been subject to fits of melancholy—I had been somewhat dispirited before; because of the events which had forced me to leave Thornfield, and Mr. Rochester behind. It was true that my marriage was not a happy one; but I could not lay the fault solely at St. John's door. It was simply that we did not suit—he did not love me, and I did not love him—that was all there was to the matter. Nevertheless we were pledged to each other for life and I, at least, would have to make the best of things. Somehow the tears never seemed to stop falling—I am certain that the Atlantic Ocean was no saltier than my drenched handkerchiefs.

St. John came to me one day with the suggestion that we start a school for the young girls in the area. It seemed to him that there was a need for such an institution in Morton, as the only schooling available was for the boys. He felt that reading, simple mathematics, and plain sewing would be good subjects for the girls to learn. He asked me if I thought I could direct this enterprise—I was very pleased with the idea of it.

The school gave me something to do—something of importance—I slowly began to feel better. I was stronger now and not so tired as I had been. I even began to regain some of the weight I had lost earlier. Mary and Diana loved to help with the school—it was beginning to be very successful. The girls at first had been hard to handle since they were not accustomed to the discipline needed in the classroom; but as time went on, they began to settle down, and actually to take pleasure in their lessons. Some of them turned out to be very sharp indeed, with very cogent observations on the subject matter under study. Indeed, there were several excellent suggestions made that were acted upon. One of them was to persuade people in the locality to come in and speak about their occupations and lives.

This turned out to be an uneven undertaking—some people were better at expressing themselves, others were very shy and had difficulty talking about their daily work. The shepherd could scarcely say a word; while the shoemaker rattled on about the different types of leather, and the many sorts of shoes; until we were weary with the weight of so much knowledge.

Mr. Jessop (1) turned out to be the best of them all. He had fought in the Peninsular Wars with the Iron Duke (as he was later known) (2) and then had been sent to the American War (3). He had been present at the burning of their Capital City at Washington—his descriptions of the battles were vivid—his observations on the scenery in Spain and America were fascinating in their minute detail, and his stories of the people met along the way were unforgettable. He had so much to share with us that he was invited back several times, and proved to be so popular, that the boys and the parents came also to hear him talk.

-xxx-

You will wonder if I ever thought about the Past and my lost love. The answer would be _that I had never stopped thinking about Mr. Rochester!_-not a day passed without the memory of his kisses, the feeling of his arms around me, the longing to be with him—wherever he might be—under whatever conditions. It was wrong—I knew it was unfair to St. John—but it was an obsession that I was powerless to end. There were times when as I slept, I felt the warmth and sweetness of a summer night, also the bliss of his caresses, and the anticipation of our love's fulfillment. I would wake to the bleak light of early morning and the knowledge that the person next to me was not the one I had been dreaming of. I still treasured the handkerchief he had given me the last time I spoke to him—it was growing threadbare from my constant use—but I could not put it away. It is a terrible thing to have made the correct decision and to have it feel so wrong.

-xxx-

It was in the second year of our marriage that things began to change. I had long known that St. John was ambitious to be a missionary. He longed to go to some faraway place and convert the natives to Christianity—to bring them salvation from their ignorance of the True Word. I was a bit skeptical of the need to travel so far in order to find those in need of redemption; but he was not to be dissuaded from his dream.

I was not comfortable with the notion because I realized that we would be going to a hostile climate, filled with diseases and discomfort. I would have to spend long hours of the day—amid scorching heat and pestilent insects—toiling to make a very small difference in an ancient culture. We did not understand their ways and they did not wish for ours—but I would not have a choice—where my Husband went, I must go also.

Fate stepped in to give me a respite of sorts, I discovered that I was pregnant again. After the last time, we had been cautioned that I must not overexert myself as I had so foolishly done before. A long sea voyage and the hardships of a frontier post in a savage climate were out of the question for me if we wished for a healthy child. When St. John received his call to India; I had to stay behind—at least until the child was born and thriving. I followed him as far as the dock at Southampton and waved until I could no longer see the ship. I was in the last stages of my pregnancy by then and there was no position of comfort to be found. We returned slowly to London, I had business to transact with Mr. Briggs regarding the transfer of some monies to the Mission account. I then planned to return to Yorkshire to be with my sisters-in-law, Diana and Mary.

It is often as they say-"Man proposes and God disposes". While I was in London resting for my return to the North, the terrible news came—a fierce storm at sea had taken my Husband's ship to the bottom of the Atlantic—there _were_ _no survivors!-_I was now a Widow with an unborn child already half-orphanned

I ordered the coach to take me back to Morton and my family. It became a journey beset with difficulties; it was fortunate that Hannah's niece was with me to keep me company and to tend to my comfort. I was grateful to have her with me—I needed her help more and more as I become unwieldy with my little passenger aboard. It began to rain heavily after a day or two on the way—the ditches were full of water, the road was a nightmare of mud and ruts, the bridges were half flooded—it was very heavy going.

Then came the last straw—I began to experience pains—not too strong at first, but regular in their repetition. There was an embarrassment in the inn yard of the George Inn at Millcote where we had paused briefly—I was descending the steps from the coach when all of a sudden I felt a warm rush of liquid down my limbs. I was soaked more thoroughly than if I had been out in the rainstorm all night, everything was wet through—petticoats, skirts, stockings, shoes.

Hannah's niece nodded wisely, "Your water's just broke, Missus, the babe's coming soon for sure."

I concluded then that there was only one thing I could do; one place I could go to in hopes of being in time for the birth; I told my coachman to take me to Thornfield Hall.

(1) "Mr. Jessop" and Mr. Jenkins are the same person, but Jane never knew that.

(2) The reference is to the Duke of Wellington.

(3) The War of 1812.

**That was Jane's story-next we will hear from Edward-what has he been doing all this time?**


	25. Chapter 25 Once A Fool

**Well, meanwhile how was Edward handling things? I think he was kicking himself thoroughly in the butt!**

ONCE A FOOL

Well, here I sit by the fire all alone, and I tell myself, _"It serves you right, you fool. How could you ever have made such a mess of things?"_

I find myself thinking of an incident that happened long ago when I was little—I was in the Garden with my Mother one bright morning when I saw the beautiful thing. How pretty it was as it fluttered along from flower to flower. I could not resist the impulse to capture it and present it to my Mother. Alas, my chubby little fingers did not know what they did—when I opened my hands to show her my treasure—it was crushed beyond recognition. My Mother was very sympathetic with my tears, but she said that this should be a lesson to me. "My dear Neddy," she said, "You must understand that your strength is meant to protect; not to harm those who are weaker than you are." She was right, of course, the few times when I have not heeded her words have led me to the most bitter regrets.

I met my Fate one Evening when all unaware, I begged a ride on my old pony cart. From the day that girl first crossed my path, I should have known that she would be nothing but a trouble and a vexation! It was a challenge I had not expected—someone who did not look at me with the usual expectations of Society. A woman who did not flirt and expect an endless amount of masculine attentions and flattery; it was very intriguing.

I should have realized from the first moment that she would prove to be nothing like any other woman I had known. But, I was as blind a fool as ever I had been. I expected her to have all the usual faults of womankind, and instead, she was free of all the lying and cupidity; all the flirtatious airs of the standard accomplished young lady; instead of idle chatter about gowns and bonnets—she could discuss literature and botany; she had read widely and well; and had decided opinions on her studies. None of that tiresome nonsense of "What do you think?" where she could hide behind my interpretation instead of her own opinion. It was a very refreshing thing to actually be able to have a conversation.

I should have known what the result would be—**what must I do but fall in love with her—**of all the developments, it was the one thing I should most have dreaded. Here I was, with all my experience of the world and of women—and, it seems, **I knew nothing about being in love**, what a terrifying experience it can be.

I'm an active person—I believe in enjoying Life and all it has to offer—granted there are things I refuse to do. I have seen too many of my acquaintances fall prey to the lures of gaming, drinking, the use of other intoxicants such as opium, and long nights with too many loose women—no, the mere thought of an orgy disgusts me and always has.

I would rather be monogamous, but up until now, it hasn't been possible. I've had some relationships that haven't worked out. It may be that I expected too much, or perhaps we didn't have the same expectations for the future. Anyway, I've given up on that sort of thing for good. All I really want is the simplest thing in the world—a decent home life—and I haven't been able to have one!

I wish I'd never been sent to Jamaica! Of all the wrong-headed ideas my Father had—that one was the real prize-winner! That infernal woman! Beautiful—yes, Bertha was a beauty! But the inside did not match the outside. All the things I hated most: all the bad traits, all the disgusting behavior that I had deplored in others—were present in her. To top it all off**—there** **was** **insanity** **in** **the** **family! **All too soon the doctors confirmed my suspicions-**my wife was a madwoman!** I was trapped in a marriage that was nothing but a pitiful sham and with no hope that things would be better.

Then things changed back here at home: my father had an apoplexy and died, and what must Rowland do but break his neck out hunting! I had to come back here and take over the estate. Of course, I had to bring her with me—my personal incubus! Fortunately, my father had never shared the news of my marriage with his acquaintances—so I was apparently free to do as I pleased.

I'm not a monk, I like women—one at a time—but nevertheless I like women; not the other possibility, which frankly. I suspect my dear brother-in-law of. There was a certain amount of that sort of thing going on at School, perhaps I'm fastidious, but I never cared for it!

There was no possibility then, of a permanent relationship which could lead to the family life which I longed for. In all my travels I never had met anyone with whom I could conceivably spend a lifetime. I had become frustrated and bitter at the way things had turned out—if this was all there was in life for me—then I was tired of living like this. I would have to make a change somehow.

The worst of it all, was the wasted time! I would soon be forty—there was not much time left for me to achieve my wishes. So, there I was—ripe for trouble like any young fool—only I was supposedly in a position to know better.

When I first began to realize what was happening—that I was becoming obsessed with this little girl—I tried to pay less attention to her. I turned to other matters—the estate always needed my attention if things were to go prosperously. The other gentlemen in the neighborhood were happy to welcome me back from my travels; we talked politics and discussed campaign plans for a new Member of Parliament to represent our interests.

There was talk of a house party to be held in the neighborhood, at the Eshton's estate. I was a bit wary of this idea because I was well aware that the Eshtons had three daughters to marry off. I held off from accepting the invitation—saying that I might come if my business affairs allowed it.

Then my lovely demon-wife escaped her keeper—not for the first, or last time—and, for whatever reason, or lack of same—she set fire to my bed. Fortunately her antics had awakened Jane, who came to my rescue with all the water she could lay hands on. The fire in my bed was out, but the fire in my heart was raging—I nearly told her then how I felt about her, but when I came back to my room after getting Bertha locked up—I found her asleep. There she was, curled up in my chair, my cloak wrapped around her, sleeping sweetly and innocently in my bedroom. I did the only thing I could decently do—I took her back to her own room and put her to back to bed. Any discussion would have to wait for another time.

In the end, I let her think that Grace was responsible for the fire, which she was, in a way; since her drunken slumber had allowed Bertha to escape her confinement. I thanked Jane for putting the fire out and saving my life.

There was more I wanted to say to her, but somehow the time was not right. Besides, I could not tell if she had any fondness for me at all, beyond that of an employee who esteemed her employer. I wanted more from her than simple gratitude and friendship. I wanted her to love me as much as I had come to love her-I could see no sign of it. So, I made the first of a series of stupid errors: I decided **to make her jealous—**I should have known it wouldn't work out the way I thought it would. I invited the neighborhood over for a continuation of the Eshton's house party.

This gave me the opportunity to carry on a half-hearted (on my part) flirtation with Blanche Ingram. I was hoping that Jane would be jealous, but I was wrong—I saw her become pale and silent—she avoided me as much as possible. I would see her only in the evenings when I obliged her to attend the gathering in the Drawing Room after the evening meal. Supposedly she was there to monitor Adele, but actually it was so that she would see Blanche's encouragement of my attentions. Once or twice I got the impression that Jane had been weeping—she seemed depressed, but I had no opportunity to speak with her.

We seemed to be at a stalemate—I decided that it was time to move things along: so I pretended to be a Gypsy fortune teller. I had great fun with the young ladies, and took the opportunity to make Blanche think that my great wealth was not as vast as was thought—that in fact I had recently experienced major losses, and would have to mortgage my properties to satisfy my debts. This, of course, did not suit Miss Blanche's expectations. As it developed, I had finally managed to dispose of her interest in me.

However, Jane saw though my play-acting fairly quickly, I was impressed by her acumen in recognizing me despite my disguise. But once again, I was not able to talk to her in depth because she told me that I had a visitor—an unwelcome one from my view—Richard Mason. So I had to let the discussion wait for a better time and attend to my brother-in-law instead. Of course the fool would not heed my warning and went straightaway that very night to see his demented sister. She became enraged when she set sight on him and savagely attacked him with a knife and only God knows what else—tooth and claw from the looks of him when I came to his rescue.

I needed someone to help me care for him while I went for the Doctor. Grace was occupied with Bertha—I would need another person. I remembered seeing Jane come out of her room when Mason's screaming and Bertha's demented howling awoke the household. I felt I could trust her to be silent about Mason's condition. I summoned her to take care of him—not without a shudder for her safety—knowing as I did, what it was that lurked on the other side of the locked and barred door.

It was a relief to get him out of the house, I sent him to stay with Mr. Carter until he was better. I wanted to talk to Jane that morning, but just as I began to put my case to her, we were interrupted by a messenger come to summon Jane to her Aunt's deathbed.

This was the first I had known of her connection to the Reed family. It seemed that her family background was better than it had appeared at first. If she had had some money, she would have belonged in Society just as much as the Ingrams or the Eshtons. Granted John Reed was a dissipated young fool and his sister, Georgiana, although very pretty, was also rather silly. Nonetheless, it was a very respectable connection. Then, also, there was the Rivers family, an old family like my own, but with less property—apparently there had been a failed investment at sometime in the Past which had left them in rather reduced circumstances—still they were of the Gentry class and Rivers' sisters should also have been in Society instead of the classroom.

The whole problem was that I could hardly offer Jane the respectable position of Wife when I already had such a person, and it would be considered to be the basest form of insult to suggest anything else! I was a wit's end for a solution; perhaps it was just as well that she was away at Gateshead; it would give me time to think. The neighbors all went home about the same time that Jane left, so I had some peace and quiet at last! Of course, then it was too quiet—so I went to London and took care of a host of small matters that had accumulated for my attention. I returned, hoping to find her back in place in the household, and the pestilential little nuisance had not yet come back!

It was intolerable—no matter what I did—I could not stop thinking about the woman! I would look at a book and remember something she had said about it. I would gaze out the window and recall seeing her walking on the garden path outside. I would hear Adele chattering with Sophie and wonder when her teacher would return. When I went to sleep at night—she was there too in my dreams: laughing sometimes; other times, she would have a sorrowful look to her, and would not speak to me. Sometimes, it seemed I would see her on the path just ahead of me, but no matter how I hastened my step, I could never come up to her.

She did return at last, it took me by surprise, there I was resting from my labors at hay-raking when she came strolling up the lane just as though she had never been away. I was glad to see her—very glad. It seemed that she was glad also—at least from something she let slip which she promptly regretted having said! I followed her back to the house in a better frame of mind than I had been for some time.

I still was wrestling with my conscience (yes, I have such a thing—although there are those who would doubt its existence)! I had concluded that I would have to send her away, no matter how hard it would be for me to bear. So I confronted her in the Library one night—one magical night—Midsummer's Eve—as I realized later. Truly I must have been under some kind of spell for me to have committed the ultimate folly of asking her to marry me. How could I have done that? I knew it was wrong—but when I thought of spending my life without her—I was lost! To hold her in my arms at last—to kiss her and to have my kisses returned—to know that her feelings were the match of my own—this was to me, at least, a foretaste of Paradise!

The few weeks of courtship that followed were delightful—how she would tease me—and how I enjoyed being teased! No one had ever treated me this way before and I loved every delicious moment of it! I never knew what she would say next—her imagination knew no bounds!

My conscience would still give me an occasional prod from time to time, but I had decided not to listen. I said my intentions were good on the whole. She would be represented as my wife and she would be accepted as such; since no one knew anything to the contrary; all would be well. Now that Mason was out of the country—well on his way back to Jamaica—there should be no interference—no distressing revelations.

I was wrong, of course—again! Mason came to the Church with that damned Solicitor and put an end to fifteen years of prevarication with a few words. I thought the floor would open up and swallow me—I almost wish it had!

The worst thing happened when that accursed stiff-rumped cousin of hers, St. John Rivers, strode forth and announced his intention of marrying her himself, forthwith and without delay! I was beside myself with rage and chagrin, but there was nothing I could do about it. He took her out of the Church, the Solicitor hurrying after them. As for Mason, I have no idea where he went, as far as I was concerned—the Devil could have him—and was welcome to him!

I spoke to her one last time before she left—I did my best to apologize for the wrong I had done her. I hoped she could forgive me—but I should have known she would point out the major flaw in my actions. She asked what had I planned to do about our children—I had no answer for that. **Bang! **She had put her finger on the one thing I had never considered. There have been some I have known who gave no thought to the matter of leaving fatherless children all over the countryside—but it was not an example I cared to emulate. I despised myself at that point—truly, my behavior had been about as vile as anything I might have criticized in the actions of others!

The thought of her married to that sermonizing cousin of hers, with all that moral rectitude of his; I feared that she would soon fade away before the icy blast of his righteousness. My bright, enchanting little fairy to be chained to that Pious Parsonic Pillar of Perfection for life—it made me grind my teeth in frustration! But, it was too late—it had happened already—over two years ago!

Just then the door opened, and Mrs. Fairfax came rushing in, all of a dither about something I couldn't make head or tail of. I followed her reluctantly into the Hall...

**Now comes the fun-it's time for melodrama! It wouldn't be a good Victorian story without it!**


	26. Chapter 26 Out of the Storm

**Who's that knocking at my door-"'tis Fate stopping by to greet you once more!"**

OUT OF THE STORM

It had been raining heavily all day; the roads were nearly impassible and there was flooding at the bridges. The coach blundered along slowly, the tired team of horses plodding wearily, the coachman peering through the early dusk in search of the roadway. If they were ditched—they were done for.

Inside the vehicle, the maid attended her mistress anxiously—the pains were coming more often and they were growing stronger. If they did not reach shelter soon—she could not answer for the outcome.

Then they reached a gateway, at last; perhaps there was hope after all. Please let someone be at home, let there be someone to help them. The house loomed before them, there were lights in some of the windows, a massive door was opening—a servant came out with a lantern. It was very still; just the sound of water running off the roof, an occasional drip of rain, the jingle of the harness, and the sounds of the horses snorting and stamping their hooves.

The servant came to the door of the coach, "Evening, Miss," he said to the maid, "Be there something you were needing?"

"Oh, if you please, my mistress is taken bad with her pains, and I scarcely think we could go on much farther. We were making for a place called Thornfield somewhere hereabouts..."

"As to that, Miss, you're there; but I don't recall as we were expecting company."

"I don't think there was any way to send a message ahead. This is an emergency and we must have help immediately—my mistress is in a bad way!" There was a groan from further inside the coach in illustration of her words.

The servant raised his lantern and peered into the dark interior, then he pulled back and stared at the lady's maid. "What is your mistress's name?"

"Rivers—Mrs. St. John Rivers."

Mrs. Fairfax had come to the door by then and Sam came back to her with his lantern and the lady's maid. The latter turned to her in great distress, "Please help us Ma'am, my mistress is in a bad way and I'm that afraid for her. It's too soon and her pains are so strong—I don't think we can go any farther!"

"John, go out there with Sam and see what can be done," the Housekeeper said.

John went out with the lantern and came back posthaste. "Missus, you'd best tell Master about this—that's Miss Jane out there and she's very poorly!"

"Good heavens—it can't be possible!" she cried. "You're sure of this, John?" He nodded, and she pattered down the hallway to the library in a great rush.

He was sitting by the fire in his chair—aimlessly turning a glass of wine in his hands when she burst into the room without even knocking. Startled by her sudden appearance, he half-rose from his chair."What the deuce is the matter with you?" he growled.

"Sir, please, you must come at once!" she cried, "John says she's very poorly—quite ill. "Oh dear, what are we to do?"

"Stop! Just a moment there—who's ill?"

"Come see, she's in the coach in the courtyard, please hurry!" She was wringing her hands in her agitation.

He was scowling as he got up and went out into the Hall. What the devil was the matter with everyone? He could see the excited group near the doorway—waving their hands and all talking at once. John came forward, "Come see for yourself, Sir—you'll not believe it."

He cast John a suspicious look, "What are you about, man—all of you know I don't like to be disturbed!"

"Come now, Mr. Edward, you know I'd never trouble you without reason to do so—come with me now, come see what's to do."

They went out to the coach, still at rest in the courtyard—the weary team standing with their heads hanging down; the coachman slumped in his seat; mud and rainwater still dripping from the body of the conveyance. He looked inside; there the woman was; all collapsed in the corner; a little thing she seemed to be; there was a smell of blood and something else unfamiliar. He turned—the maid was at his elbow. "What's the matter with your mistress? She's bleeding!"

"Please help us, sir—I'm afraid she's losing it!"

"Losing what? I'm not a doctor, damn it all!"

"Losing her child, sir, it's too soon, and I'm feared for her."

"Good God, what brings her here here at a time like this!"

"She said as how she knew the people here, that they would help."

"She's known here?" He looked back into the coach's interior—the woman's face was turned away. Just then she gave a little sigh and turned back towards them. As her face came into view, he felt his heart give a great leap-his breath stopped for a moment. He swallowed the lump that had suddenly manifested itself in his throat. Then he reached in and carefully gathered her up into his arms and carried her into the house—still not believing this latest twist of fate.

"See to her coach and horses, Sam. John, go fetch Mr. Carter. Leah, go to the village and get that woman—you know the one I mean—the midwife. Hurry—all of you!" They rushed away.

He carried her upstairs, to the room which he had kept always ready—hoping for her return. Here she was at last, but in what sad condition, he was not yet sure. Her maid was there, she had followed him. "Are they bringing up the luggage?" She nodded. "Good—get the fire started and help me with her clothing—we've got to get her comfortable as soon as possible."

He studied her garments then—so much black-"Is your mistress in mourning for someone?"

"Aye sir, her husband, Mr. St. John, is dead."

"She's been widowed then—she's very young—how long ago did he die?"

"Happen 'twas near two weeks ago. This is the second time she's been expecting—she lost the first one and this time she was being very careful and following th' Doctor's instructions, and then Mr. St. John was called to his Mission and she couldn't go wi' him because of the bairn. She had to stay behind, at least until the babe was born and thriving. So he went on without her and then the news came just last week. His ship was caught in a great storm and they do say that it went down and all aboard were lost at sea."

"But what brings her here?"

"She were on her way to Mr. St. John's sisters when she was taken bad—she said there was a house nearby where she could ask for help."

Sam had come to the door, "Sam, have they taken care of the coach and horses? Has the coachman been given something to eat and drink? Be sure to find him a place to sleep. Send Mrs. Fairfax to me." Sam hurried away.

"We need a nightdress for her—there should be some in the drawers over there—go warm it at the fire, then bring it here."

"But sir, these are someone else's—won't they mind?"

"Not at all, they are hers—she left them behind—this was her room when she was living here."

"She used to live here—oh goodness—you must be the one she..." The maid suddenly stopped talking, aware of her indiscretion.

"Out with it, girl! What did she say?"

"It wasn't so much what she said, it was the way she looked sometimes—she would smile and then she would be sad, but she would never say much of anything. Mr. St. John didn't care for it at all, but he never said much either.."

"Did he not! He sounds a cool sort."

"I suppose he was; he was a good man and a gentleman, but very stern."

"Here's Mrs. Fairfax to help us—then I want you to rest a bit and eat something—we'll need you later on and I want you fresh—go now with Sam, he'll take care of you." She curtsied and left. Mrs. Fairfax came in then, "Sir, Leah's coming back just now with Mrs. Potter; she took the pony cart so's not to lose any time."

"Good girl—she'll be able to help us to get our guest settled."

"You knew she was married—her name is Rivers."

"I'm ahead of you there—she's widowed."

"Oh goodness! Whatever next?"

"Here now, you ladies take care of her for awhile and I'll wait for Mr. Carter—he shouldn't be long now—at least, not if he was at home."

**Well, he was sick and tired of his own company-this will make a nice change for him.**


	27. Chapter 27 Faded Flower

**Well, nothing like a good session of booty kicking to clear the air! **

FADED FLOWER

Edward sat in the hallway outside her door—and he thought about the way Fate catches up with one when least expected. A few years ago, Fate had put this little girl in his path, and all unsuspecting of the cost, he had fallen in love with her.

She had been like sunshine then, the joy of living ran strong in her. How she had delighted in the world around her with all its beauties opening before her like the flowers in the garden. How she had laughed and teased him with her nonsensical notions. How much he had loved her and had wished to keep her only for himself, safe from loss and sorrow, safe in his arms forever.

Dame Fortune was a cruel tease—with one hand she gave—and with the other she took it all back, and then some. With one stroke she took Jane from him, irrevocably, to be another man's wife; and, in doing so, took all his hopes away.

His life had been bitter enough before they had met, but now it was a thousand times darker than it had been. One thing it was, not to know what was missing; and quite another thing to lose one's only treasure, after having found it. The hardest thing, perhaps, was that he could find no comfort for his pain. Alcohol did nothing for him, there was no oblivion to be found in the bottom of the bottle for him. He had the unfortunate ability to recall every disgusting detail of his behavior when under the influence.

Women were of no use—she had spoiled him for all others. He had lost all interest in even the thought of engaging himself in another affair. Gaming had never interested him—he had seen too many ruined by it. He had tried to lose himself in the depths of his extensive library, and had found some distraction in doing so.

But the only thing that really seemed to help was hard physical labor, and large amounts of some form of exercise. He would take his horse out in the Mornings and ride for miles over his properties. He had taken an interest in the Garden and grounds surrounding Thornfield. A day spent in the open air, doing something along the lines of digging and planting, would at least give him an appetite for his dinner and help him to sleep at night, although never for long.

She would come to him in his dreams: sometimes gentle and loving, and he would wake with a sigh and tears on his pillow; other times she would be mischievous and teasing, laughing at him as she skipped away before him, eluding his grasp, and there would be a rueful smile on his face when he woke; but the worst dreams were those where he found her weeping, and nothing he could do or say would stem the flow of her tears, he always woke from those in a depression that would last for hours.

The passage of time had not been easy for her either: her maid had hinted at a difficult marriage; and she had lost a child and a husband; and she and her unborn child were in mortal danger at this very moment. Yet she had come to him for help, relying on him, _trusting_ him...

There was only one thing he could think of to do that might be of use. He looked up towards the ceiling and beyond, "I hope You are listening, God, because You and I have not been on the best of terms. Please, keep her safe and the baby too. Now that she has returned to me, please don't take her away again. I have tried to do better and to amend my life because of her. Don't let my efforts go for nothing—I have so many things I want to tell her, to do for her—and most of all, I want to _show_ her how much I love her." He had joined his hands in prayer as he said this and now he bowed his head in supplication and surrender to a higher power than his own.

Stiff from sitting so long, he got up and paced the hallway and the gallery. As he was doing so, his Father's portrait caught his eye. He stopped before it-"_We_ _never_ _got_ _on_ _well_, _you_ _and_ _I_, _you_ _were_ _always_ _favoring_ _Rowland_, _your_ _perfect_ _child_; _and_ _what_ _was_ _I_ _but_ _an_ _extra_ _branch_ _on_ _the_ _Family_ _Tree_; _not_ _necessary_, _not_ _needed_; _yet_ _nevertheless,_ _something_ _that_ _had_ _to_ _be_ _provided_ _for_; _in_ _short_—_a_ _nuisance_.

"_To give you your due, you saw to it that I was well-educated and brought up to be a gentleman. But then you got that notion in your head about my marrying an heiress, and that's when the trouble began. I''ll admit that I had probably given you more difficulty than I should have, but I was young and high-spirited, and probably no worse than my friends, when it came to prankishness. _

"_In the end, what did it all matter? You had that apoplexy and Rowland broke his neck going over that fence, during the Hunt; and here I am, after all, with the whole inheritance—like it or not. I could have done without Bertha and all those hellish years I spent because of her. Most of all though, I bitterly regret the pain I have caused the courageous little girl who lies here tonight; suffering pangs of labor for the child that should have been ours! I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her if she will allow it—I hope she will."_

He sighed deeply, and went to look out the window—the long Night was nearly over—the first light of Dawn was beginning to glow in the eastern sky—the storm had finally cleared away. There were a few stars still to be seen in the dark sky—but Day was coming. How much longer would she be birthing the child? He could still hear her cries, they were frequent and agonized—he was afraid for her—so long and the baby not born yet. How much more would she be able to take, before she gave in to exhaustion and pain? _Was she going to die?_

**Sorry, but this was before anesthesia and babies born to a doctor's schedule, and death in childbirth was unfortunately all too common. So, I am gleefully leaving you with a cliffhanger-heehee-until the next chapter!**


	28. Chapter 28 Something New

**In which some matters are resolved, and Mr. Rochester is left holding the baby.**

SOMETHING NEW

Time was passing by on dragging feet—the Surgeon and the Midwife had soon resolved their professional differences and were united in their task. There was a constant coming and going from the bedroom as requests were were filled and demands met. He sat in the hallway, banished as superfluous to the endeavor. Now and then, he could hear her cries—the sound went through him as though he was being stabbed. She was in such pain—he could feel it in all his body.

Her maid came out to find him, "Please, sir, could you go in? They say she seems to be calling for you. It might help if you were there."

Carter spoke to him as he came into the room. "She's not doing too well—she's very agitated and if we can't get her to calm down—it may go badly. Please sir, just sit here by the bed and hold her hand and talk to her, perhaps she'll hear you and relax a little—she's too tense."

He sat and took her hand in his, it was burning hot, he stroked it soothingly. "I am here with you, don't be afraid, I will try to help you."

I seemed to be lost in a wasteland of fever and excruciating pain—shaking with sobs of anguish, I cried out, "Edward!-Edward, please forgive me! I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have done it—I was wrong! Ohhh, why does it hurt so much! Someone please help me..."

He stroked my face with a damp cloth and took my hands in his again. "Open your eyes and look at me—just look at me—only at me. Never mind those other people—look at _me_."

Slowly my eyes opened and I saw him, "You _are_ here," I said, "I thought I was dreaming about you but you're really here with me. This is my room at Thornfield, isn't it?"

"Yes, you're here and everything is going to be all right. Just be calm now—you're here with me—you're safe—all will be well." For answer, I gave him a weak smile, but my agitation was gone; I was calmer and better able to co-operate with the instructions I was being given by the Midwife. Time passed, the pains came more strongly, and more often. I clutched his hands throughout the ordeal. Then there was a sudden flurry of activity, a pause and a sudden thin thread-like squealing.

Mrs. Potter came forward after a few minutes, she was carrying a small, noisy bundle. "It's a little girl, very little, but I think she'll do. A few minutes more and we should have her mother taken care of. Will you hold the baby, sir? I've got nowhere to lay her down."

He found himself looking at a tiny, red, very indignant face—he couldn't stop smiling at the little one's displeasure with its new surroundings.

I turned my head and looked at him holding the child—there was a lump in my throat—it should have been _his_ child—_ours._ "She said it was a girl, didn't she? I want to call her Amelia. I don't know anyone with that name so it will be hers—just hers."

"That is a lovely name, I like the sound of it—Amelia. You know, she's got your hazel eyes."

"My eyes are not hazel—they're green!"

"Tut! My love, you must know that I see them _my _way, and I see lovely hazel eyes."

"I wish she was ours, not _his_."

"But she _is_ ours—you know I'm very fond of little girls! Big girls too!" he said it, laughing.

There was a small frown on my face, but I found it too hard not to smile at his joke.

-xxx-

A fortnight had passed: I and my little daughter were well on our way to good health. When I had awoken the next day after my daughter's birth, I had inquired as to Mr. Rochester's whereabouts, only to have Mrs. Fairfax tell me that he was away on business. I was a bit disappointed, and I asked her if he had been travelling a great deal in my absence. Her answer surprised me—she said that he had scarcely left Thornfield since my departure on the occasion of my marriage to St. John. I wondered at the change in his behavior; but was soon absorbed in the new responsibilities of motherhood. On his return from his travels, he came to see me in my room—Leah following him in with the tea tray.

"You are looking a great deal better," he said, "I hear that the Doctor says you can be out of that bed by tomorrow, and Mrs. Potter says that Amelia is thriving."

There was a smile on my face—relief and happiness at seeing him returned and in good spirits—raised my spirits also. "I am sorry to be such a burden to you. I am sure you have other concerns, and I should not have intruded with all my troubles."

"Think nothing of it—we were entirely too quiet here, and the household has enjoyed having something to do out of the routine. Besides-" here his voice dropped to a more confidential level and he drew closer to me, taking my hand in his, "I have wanted more than anything to see you; to know how you were doing; to know if you were—all right. I tried not to think about you, and I couldn't, no matter how I tried. I would walk in the garden, and all I could remember was the last time I spoke to you there. Tell me how things were for you."

"Are you sure you want to know—some of it was very difficult."

"Please, after all, it was my fault—none of it would have happened had I acted differently."

"As you must know, St. John and I were married the day we left here. I saw you watching us when we came out of the Bishop's residence—when our eyes met, I could see that we knew the same pain of loss. But my path was set and I had to follow it wherever it led me. St. John took me back to his old family home in Morton—his sisters were there and we were comfortable together. They were pleased that St. John had married me, he never told them the circumstances, so there was no prejudice against our union.

"I kept very busy with the housework and with Parish work, as he had taken up his former Living upon his return. We started a school for some of the village children and that was another outlet for my energies. Within a few months, our Uncle died and left us his fortune. My Cousins could now live comfortably, and the sisters would be able to marry, now that they had dowries. I was glad that things were looking up for us."

"Jane, you have not said anything about your marriage—was he awkward about...us?"

"I had made it clear very early on that I would not apologize for anything, because I felt I had done nothing that I had to apologize for. His nature was not effusive, but he was never really unkind. It was just that our temperaments did not match well—he wanted me to be modest and quiet- rather depressing to me, but I did my best to behave suitably. Fortunately, we were so busy with our duties that we did not have to spend too much time together.

"You must understand that St. John was a very cool self-contained person—he was not out-going in his emotions. Whether pleased or not—he was always controlled in his measured response to the situation presented; indeed, I seldom knew him to show much reaction—perhaps the day we were married—there were some signs of annoyance from him when he saw you across the Square. But, after all, he knew himself the victor in that contest—he could afford to gloat a bit—and I do not think it was beyond him to do so!

"I realized after a while that his purpose in marrying me was not just to preserve my reputation; and by doing so, avoiding a scandal in the family that might have gone against his sisters; no—it was that a wife could be a useful tool in his work. And, that was about the light in which he saw me—something that would be helpful in achieving his ends. His expectations were very high—I did my best to meet them. He complained about my 'unseemly levity'-I saved my laughter for the times when he was not present. He was displeased with my sketching and drawing—I pointed out that it was to preserve the beauty of God's creations. And so it went—sometimes I carried my point; but, I'm afraid, more often I had to cede the field to him. It was a stifling existence for me—truly, I do not know how I would have done if it had gone on much longer!

"Over two years have passed since I left here, I had been married to St. John nearly a year when I miscarried our first child—the doctor prescribed a period of rest and then he said we might try again. I was overjoyed when I found myself once more with child—I wanted so badly to have a family of my own—St. John seemed pleased also.

"But then the call came that he had been waiting for all this time—a Mission to India. I couldn't go with him, of course, My state of health was deemed to be too delicate for such a voyage. I would have to stay behind at least until the child was born and I had recovered from the ordeal, it might be months before we saw each other again. I will not say that I was altogether sorry at this development. I foresaw an opportunity to relax a little from the stiff posture I had had to adopt as his wife.

"The news came while I was still in London, a week before I came back here—there was a terrible storm in the Atlantic—his ship had been wrecked off the coast of Africa—all aboard had perished. I decided to go to my sisters-in-law—we could stay together to comfort each other. Then I fell ill on the way and realizing that Thornfield was nearby, I though perhaps I could find some help here and so we arrived at your door."

"What do you want to do now?" he asked. "I would be glad to have you here—I have missed you so much, and been so worried about you. It is a great relief to see you getting well. I was so afraid of losing you just when I had finally got you back."

"Things are different now for me. I see the whole problem from a different point of view. When I left here before, I was acting on a matter of principle. I was letting my head lead the way and my head was telling my heart to be silent. When I walked away from here—it was very hard for me. I wanted to stay, but my feet took me out the gate even though I didn't really want to go.

"Then I married St. John—again against my inclinations—but my head was still ruling my actions—convincing me that this was the right thing to do. It seems that all my head's decisions have turned out badly. I have not been very happy lately."

He had been quietly listening to my story, but now he got up and walked about the room, he poured some tea, but it had gone cold while we were talking. He drank it anyway and then came back to my bedside. "While I was gone just now, I went to London, I have put out some inquiries into the matter of your husband's shipwreck with Lloyd's (1), and with the Missionary Society. Shall I send for your sisters-in-law? I would be glad to meet your family—there is plenty of room here for them to stay."

"Yes, please, that would be so wonderful. I think you will like them."

"Once we have the reports from my inquiries, we will know better how to proceed. There will be some decisions to make."

"Decisions—what decisions?"

"I think it is more than time for us to be married."

"Isn't there an inconvenience in the form of...your wife?"

"Bertha died nearly a year ago—Carter said she had an inflammation of the lungs—he called it by some fancy medical term—Pneumonia, I think it was. She was ill for several weeks, nothing seemed to help, she just got weaker until one morning Grace found her dead."

"Oh poor creature—what a sad life she had!"

"I would really rather not think about her, I've suffered for too many years of my life on her account. I'm just relieved that it's over and that she is finally at rest. I'm not going to be hypocritical and say I miss her."

"I don't know that I want to think about marriage just now—it's too soon."

"You are doubtless right—he's scarcely been gone a month and here I am importuning you... I should know better by now. We'll talk about it another time when you are more recovered and have had some time to think it over. I will still send for your sisters-in-law, shall I?"

"Oh yes, please do—they will be so pleased to see the baby!"

"Very well, it's as good as done."

(1) Lloyd's was, at this time, primarily into the business of insuring ships and their cargo—so would have been the best source for information on a shipwreck.

**Are you wondering what happens next? Well, there will be a brief intermission while we tie up some loose ends in the next chapter. Then, there will be a thrilling conclusion, and an intriguing epilogue. That's right, we're nearly done-ta dah!**


	29. Chapter 29 A Soldier's Story

**Sometimes a character insinuates itself into the storyline and you are left wondering what to do with this person. I was very taken with Mr. Jenkins and decided to tell you a little more about him. I dedicate this chapter to all old soldiers and their wish for peace.**

A SOLDIER'S STORY

When I was a young man, all I could think of was adventure in a wider world than the one I knew. I lived on the farm where my family had always lived, and I spent my days doing all the work that constantly accumulates on a farm. There are always the animals and the crops to be taken care of; for this is our livelihood on a farm. No crops, meant no food; and no animals would mean no milk from the cow, no eggs from the chickens, no horses to help with the plowing. Everything depended on everything else.

One day a small band of men came marching through our village on Market Day; they were led by a red-coated Sergeant and they stepped to the sound of a fife and drum. A brief demonstration was given of an arms drill and then the Sergeant called for recruits. "Who will take the King's shilling and join in the fight against the French?"

There had been talk for some time about the troubles on the Continent and I had heard some of the fellows talking about fears of an invading force coming from France. I was eager to join in the struggle against the threatening oppressors. My brothers could manage without me on the farm—I was for the Army and adventure! So, I took "The King's shilling" and was promptly mustered into the Army.

I discovered that the Army life was as full of routine as farm life had been. Up early for Roll Call and inspection-"More polish on your buttons, Soldier! You there—look to your boots! Heads up, look straight ahead—right face—forward march! And so it went—I soon came to understand that the infantry does a great deal of marching!

Soon we reached the Port and the troop transports—we were going to the war in Spain—here was adventure at last! Here was sea-sickness for many of us land-lubbers! Fortunately, a few days soon put us to rights with the Sea and its nasty trick of never leaving the floor and the horizon on a level with each other.

Spain was hot and dusty—I was always thirsty. There were terrible battles which we mostly won because the Spanish were on our side and they hated the French even more than we did. It was long days of marching—always marching under the pitiless Sun and praying for night to fall because then it would be cooler. The battles were full of smoke and blood and desolation—but we finally routed the French.

They sent us to America after that—another spell of sea-sickness and an eternity of ocean! At least the air was fresh and there was no dust. But the rations became progressively more rancid as the voyage continued. When we finally reached landfall, I was ready to kiss the ground in relief; but I couldn't even walk straight because I had been so long at sea that I couldn't cope with a surface which was not in constant motion. We all looked pretty silly for a day or so.

America was not like Spain—the weather was more like England's—except the Summers were hotter and more humid and the Winters could be bitter. We made the best of the circumstances—our worst problem being that the natives for the most part were not friendly! Our presence was very much resented, in fact. Their attitude seemed to be that they had told the King once already that they wanted nothing more to do with being governed from afar by strangers; and that they were perfectly capable of creating their own problems without any help from the "Mother Country".

I had to admire their pluck and continued resistance. Eventually, they got some help from abroad and managed to turn the tide against us, but not before we had burned their Capital City. There was a Treaty signed at Ghent; and then Napoleon got loose again and we had to go back to chasing him around. I was wounded early in the action at Waterloo and so missed most of that battle—a good thing perhaps for me. That battle put an end to our troubles with the French for the time being—it also put an end to my service in the Army. Due to my wound, I was invalided out of the Service with a small pension.

My wound healed well and I went home to have a look at things. All was changed—my Father had died and my brothers had married—the oldest had the Farm. Mother had aged, she sat near the fire these days, watching over the cooking and helping with my Brother's children. There had been a girl I had admired from afar—she was married also, with a great many children and a hard-working husband. There was nothing left for me in that place and so I began to wander about in search of something—I scarcely knew what.

I worked here and there at whatever came my way. Sometimes I was a hostler at an inn, sometimes I was a gardener. I did whatever work I was offered. Then a gentleman came to me and said that he had been told of my background in the Army and on the farm, and that he could put me in the way of an honest employment that might last for some time.

Mr. Rochester interviewed me and explained what he wanted. It seems that there was a young lady that he was concerned about. She was shortly to be married and would be leaving the district with her Bridegroom. He wanted me to follow after them and see them to their new home, wherever it might be. I was not to make any direct contact unless it became necessary. His main concern seemed to be for the young lady's comfort and safety in her new situation. He provided me with funds for a horse and for my travelling expenses. I promised to keep him advised of my observations.

-xxx-

I followed them to this place called Morton; it seems that the young man's family lives here. He has taken up the Living which he had before; the young lady is kept very much occupied with running her household and doing Parish work. They do not employ more than one servant, and I think the young lady is wearing herself out with the heavy tasks she undertakes to do.

It was as I thought—I found her in the garden the other day—trying to dig up potatoes—poor little thing—she was sick and in the midst of a miscarriage—with no idea of what was taking place. I have seen some saddening things during my time in the Army—but this really grieved me. Her Husband came home just then and I had gone for the old servant to help. Between us, we made her more comfortable and I fetched the midwife to take charge of the matter.

They have hired me to take care of the outdoor tasks and the heavy work around the place and now Mrs. Hannah has her niece to help with the housework. My young lady is beginning to look better—that Husband of hers was not paying her enough attention, he should have noticed that she was not well. Too busy being a Good Christian to see what's under his nose! Looking up at Heaven when he should be watching his footing here on Earth!

I was in touch with Mr. Rochester all this time of course, I had begun to take a personal interest in her well-being. She was such a gentle little girl and so kind to everyone she met. No beggar ever left the doorway of her house without a little something to eat and perhaps a few pennies to go on. They had started a little school for the village girls and farmers daughters—after a period of adjustment—the children began to really come ahead in learning their numbers and alphabets. She had her cousins in to help with the instruction, it soon became a great success.

It was good to see things improving for her; then there were some changes. For one thing, they were wealthy now with a legacy from an Uncle who had died in some foreign place. For another, Mr. Rivers was going to India as a missionary—apparently this was the goal of his life. I was appalled at this piece of folly—_how could he even think of exposing this delicate little woman to the hardships of such a place!_-apparently his ambition blinded him to all else.

God works in odd ways sometimes—she could not go with him because she was in her last months of pregnancy—a long sea voyage was out of the question at this time. She would have to stay behind until the child was born and the two of them were strong enough to travel halfway around the world.

So he went on ahead to India; she went with him to see him off on his travels; I stayed here taking care of the place. To tell truth, I liked Morton and the people in it and I particularly liked Mrs. Hannah. I was thinking I might have found the place where I could spend the rest of my life and someone to pass it with.

Of course, you will have heard of what happened: Mr. Rivers shipwrecked, his little wife a widow, the child without a father. At least in the midst of her troubles, she had the presence of mind to go to Mr. Rochester for help. She never returned to Morton; instead she sent for her Cousins, the Misses Rivers, and stayed at Mr. Rochester's house with them. She had her baby, a little girl, I was glad that she had her child, it would be a consolation to her for the loss of her Husband. I am happy to stay here—with Mrs. Hannah.

**All right, it was very bad of me-you are still doubtless wondering about the main characters and what will happen with them. Well, I'll tell you next time-probably.**


	30. Chapter 30 Down The Garden Path

**Not everyone will agree with some of Jane's actions in this penultimate chapter. I will only remark that a wealthy widow was less vulnerable to criticism of her behavior, than was a young woman with no resources-besides, she loved him.**

DOWN THE GARDEN PATH

My sisters-in law came to stay with us and spent much time making a fuss over their little niece. Amelia was baptized as Amelia Mary Rivers. The inquiries about St. John's shipwreck came back affirming the disaster—no survivors. My husband was gone before he could realize his ambition of converting the ignorant masses of a foreign land. I mourned the waste of his talents more than I wept for him. He had chosen his path, even though it had not ended as he had expected it would.

Adele came home from her School—she was thrilled to see me again and intrigued by Amelia's infant charms. She was overjoyed to meet my cousins and soon was letting them teach her German, as well as other subjects. I no longer had much time to spend in the classroom, as Amelia and Edward were always vying for my attention.

-xxx-

It had been six months since I had returned to Thornfield in the middle of a storm with my baby struggling to be born before her time. The time since then had been an interval of peace spent with the people I was fondest of. I had now left off my black mourning dresses and hardly thought of St. John any longer. We had never had the right sort of marriage to begin with. He had not loved me—but had simply used me as a sort of tool for realizing his ambitions. He had always been very cold and disapproving of my activities—blameless though they were. Then there was that business about going to India with him—I was sure that I would never have lasted long there in that extreme climate. If he had really cared about me, he would never have insisted on such a harsh path for our endeavors. There was a need for a ministry to the poor and unfortunate right here in England.

Edward and I were spending a lot of time together, and I was wondering how much longer we would pass in this state of suspended animation. Yet, as often as we would be somewhere talking, we would be interrupted by the many demands made by a busy household and a baby. Diana and Mary were often with me also to discuss our latest novel reading, or to compare our progress on our various bits of handiwork. I was well on the way to finishing a pair of slippers for a certain gentleman—to be given at some future date as a "Thank You" of sorts for his many kind attentions. Truly, I was as deeply in love with him as ever; but he had said nothing lately about his intentions toward a future life together. Apart from that curious statement of his a few months ago when he had said we should think about marriage. It was true that once or twice I had thought him on the verge of some observation, but along would come an interruption of some kind and the subject would be changed .

When he asked me to join him in a stroll in the garden one evening, I agreed, not thinking anything of it. What was my surprise when he seized hold of me without a word and carried me off to the carriage which was standing in the courtyard! In I went, willy-nilly, and in he came after me. To my surprise, I found the carriage was filled with roses, their sensuous aroma was overpowering; the carriage was already moving when he began to kiss me; I found that to be rather overpowering also.

To tell the truth, I felt rather pleased at his impetuosity. St. John had never done anything of an impromptu nature since we had been married—all was done as if by rote—following some well-laid-out plan in accordance to strict Biblical dictates which only he understood, and which I deplored for its lack of life and spontaneity.

However, even though I found this surprise rather pleasing, I was still in some doubt as to what he meant by it. Accordingly, as soon as I got my breath back, I demanded to know what he thought he was doing. "This is not what I understood to be a walk in the garden," I complained.

He laughed at me as he said, "Why here we have the best part of the garden around us, and, admit it—I led you rather nicely _down the garden path _to get you here".

"Very well, I concede the point," I said coolly, "But, please tell me your purpose in doing so."

The answer should not have been an enigma. "Why, I am kidnapping you and carrying you off to be married, of course!"

"What are you about, Edward—you haven't even asked me!" I cried indignantly.

"Oh, I did that long ago, if you recall, little fire-spirit!" he said, with a mischievous look on his face.

"Surely it's too soon—I've only been widowed six months—what will people say?"

"My love, people will talk—no matter if it were a year from now! Does it really matter to you?"

"I begin to think that you always won your debates when you were at school!"

"So I did—how did you know that?"

"I found one of your prize books in the Library once—the dedication was self explanatory."

"Ah—was it my copy of Catullus that you poked your scholarly little nose into?"

"No, it was Virgil's "Georgics"—if you must know. Edward, surely you don't intend for us to go all the way to Scotland—I am scarcely prepared for such a long trip."

"No need for that, I've got the license in my pocket." The carriage was pulling into an inn-yard as he spoke.

"Edward, what are we doing here?"

"Well, we can't use the license until the morning—rules you know. So, how about a bit of supper and then perhaps—if you wouldn't mind it too much—would you like to be compromised?"

"Are you suggesting that I should spend the night _here_ with _you—alone_?"

"Well, only if you want to, of course—we could always go back to Thornfield—it isn't very far. Did you know that this inn is one of my properties? The Inn-keeper used to be my Father's Butler. I can promise you that everyone here will be most discreet."

"There you go—wiggling your eyebrows again! You're incorrigible!"

"Sorry, not going to change my name to that—too many syllables—'Edward' is what I prefer to be called."

"Are you sure that your middle name isn't 'Machiavelli'?"

"You know, I've had the hardest time trying to get you alone to talk to you, and to pay some special attention to you. All I want to do every time I see you, is to take you in my arms and kiss you, and to tell you how much I love you and, in general, to make a fool of myself over you, and we're interrupted every time I start to tell you how I feel and what I want to do!"

I could feel a smile starting to make its way through, "You know, I could do with a bite to eat, and I _am _rather tired—I would enjoy a nice restful evening by the fireside—but only if you will be there too. These are lovely roses, by the way—shall we take some in with us?-I've always wondered what a 'bed of roses' would be like."

There was a chuckle, "Forgive me, but I've already thought of that—want to see?" I nodded, and with that, he swept me out of the carriage and upstairs before I could catch my breath.

It was a truly memorable wedding night, even though the wedding did not take place until the next day. For one thing, I discovered that, as I had always suspected, my late husband had known nothing about the arts of the bedchamber. Edward, on the other hand, was very adept, and an excellent instructor. St. John, unfortunately, had spent all of _his_ time trying to please God rather than himself. Edward was very interested in pleasing _me _and he was quite successful—more than once! Incidentally, the roses smelled wonderful!

On waking beside him the next morning, I knew that this was the way I wanted to spend the rest of my life; next to the man who loved me. I discovered that he was awake also—in more ways than one—it was delightful! What a lovely way to start the day!

"Well, are you still of a mind to marry me?" he inquired.

"I don't know—what will you give me if I say 'yes'?"

"Mmm—how about one of these, and another one over here, and I mustn't neglect this place," dropping kisses as he went.

"Oh, stop that! It tickles! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

He said afterwards, "I saw you looking at my embellishment—do you want it back?" He was referring, of course, to my pearl necklace, which lay gleaming around his neck. "I have worn it since the day I lost you, but now that I have you back for good—I think you should wear it—besides, I think it will become you more than it ever did me!" I demurred at his flattery, but he was insistent, and I soon found it fastened securely around my neck, where it has stayed ever since.

"Well, Madam, I fear the time has come for us to become respectable." Herewith he indicated that I should open the door to the adjoining room. A fragrant bath tub awaited me with a further surprise.

I discovered that Sophie and Leah had arrived with a lovely wedding outfit for me. They fussed and cooed over me until I grew impatient. "No, no Madame, one little moment more!" here Sophie twitched out a lovelock, from my coiffure, "Alors—voici Madame!" she cried as Leah opened the door.

-xxx-

They say that no man is a hero to his valet—as to that, they may be right. I stretched back in the chair while John prepared to shave me. I gave him a sardonic look, "Out with it man, who won the pool?" I inquired.

His face was a study of innocence, "Truly, sir, I don't know to what you may refer."

"Balderdash! We've spent too many years together for you to pull the wool over _my_ eyes! Ever since she came back, you've all been speculating on how long it would take."

"Oh no Mr. Edward, we would never..."

"You would too—who won?"

His face was a picture of chagrin as he finally admitted the fact of the matter, "Sir, you'll never credit it, 'twas Sophie who came the closest to it."

"Three cheers for the French! At least in the field of Love, if not War! I trust she is the wealthier for her wager."

"It was only tuppence ha'penny each, Mr. Edward."

"A princely sum, all things considered. Here is something for you, my friend, to compensate your loss."

"Thankee sir, it's too much, indeed it is."

"Just don't cut my throat in the frenzy of your joy, my good man!"

"Oh no, indeed not, sir." Here the razor was stropped vigorously before John put it to its proper use.

-xxx-

When Edward saw me—I thought he was going to cry—he was so moved; but instead he took my hand and kissed it, and put a forget-me-not ring on my finger. "You should have had this a long time ago," he said, "this is your betrothal ring—may you always be as happy as I am now."

We went to the Church then, everybody was there: my cousins, Mrs. Fairfax, Adele, Leah, and Sophie. All went well, and this time there were no interruptions to the Service. The bells were making a joyous sound as we came out and I felt as though my feet were nowhere near the ground, so much uplifted as I was in my felicity!

-xxx-

Reverend Woods' nephew, Mr. Wharton, took his degree at Cambridge, and came to visit his Uncle at Hay, before going on to take up his Living. He and my sister-in-law, Mary seemed to be spending a great deal of time together. I was very happy for her as they seemed to be comfortable with each other, and now that she had a dowry, she would be a good catch for such a worthy young man. Of course, since she was still in mourning for her brother, they would have to wait a little while, but I was sure that once the period of waiting was over, they would waste no more time.

Diana, being more lively that her sister, had quite a social success in the neighborhood. A number of young men seemed always to be hanging about. Edward was both amused and irritated by them; as great inroads were made on his wines and tobacco whenever they came calling. There was a Naval Captain finally, who carried the day against these rapacious hordes, and we had some peace at last. Edward was gratified because it turned out that the Captain could give as good as he got on the smaller battlefield of the chessboard.

My dear Cousins decided to be married all at once on the same day—and so it was—a week before Amelia's first birthday, Mary and Diana took their wedding vows at Thornfield Church. I thought the bells would never stop ringing that day! Such joy for all of us—and indeed, though the years have gone by—the joy has not gone.

Do you remember the old Chestnut tree in the orchard—the one struck by lightning? It seems that Edward had had it cut down and had saved the wood for something very special—a cradle for our first-born son. We named him Edward Charles after his long-ago ancestor—but he has always been called Eddy. He was soon joined by his little sister, Arabella, so that Amelia was not long alone in the Nursery; she enjoyed her little brother and sister and read them many stories and played endless games with them. When her cousins came over—she was the dignified queen of the merry proceedings.

When I look back over all that has happened—I realize that it is as I said at the start of this tale—from small beginnings, great things may come.

**I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. There is still an epilogue to come which will be worth your while to contemplate. Life is a tale that never ends: there is always a new beginning; just when we think we are done with the story...**


	31. Chapter 31 Overheard

**Remember: this is the Nineteenth Century before widespread communications, satellite navigation systems, jet travel, and such things took away the mystery of the faraway places.**

OVERHEARD AT THE EXPLORERS CLUB: LONDON, ENGLAND

(Ten years later)

"Sir William, I understand that you have just returned from The Amazon. They tell me that you had some amazing adventures while you were there."

"Oh yes indeed, Lord Bracken, we traveled for miles on that river and saw many wonders. Brazil is a very different place from what we are accustomed to."

"They say that the flora and fauna are not to be equalled anywhere else in the world."

"Very true, and the Natives are remarkable people."

"I hear that they have some very outlandish practices—Headhunting, Cannibalism and the like."

"Yes, that is so—I heard of many strange things while I was there."

"There was one story you were telling the other night that sounded most intriguing. You said that there was a man they were worshipping almost as though he were a god."

"Oh you must be referring to the Madman—they say he appeared from the Sea one day after a violent storm. No one can understand a word of what he says, but he goes about seemingly baptizing every native he comes across. Then he will stand for hours declaiming a sort of sermon. They are very respectful of him and give him the best of what they have."

"Did you ever see him?"

"No, I never had the opportunity—one old man, dressed in feathers, fibers and face-paint, told me that he had been baptized several times, and he ascribed his long life and many children to this. He says that the prophet is very tall with fair hair and blue eyes. He has been going about for some years now ever since that storm. The natives call him Tzinchin and say that his arrival was foreseen in a prophecy by one of their wise men."

"I wonder where he came from?"

"I doubt we'll ever know."

"Oh, hello there, Rochester—just up from the country? Good to see you, old fellow! How's your family?"

"Hello all. Bracken, good to see you again, it's been too long."

"I'm sure I could say the same-here's our friend just back from Brazil-have you ever been there?"

"Goodness no, such a place! I'm told that if the fish don't eat you-the Natives will!"

There was general laughter at this jest, and the gentlemen settled down to an evening of quiet pleasure at the gaming tables.

FINIS?

**Now, the question is...did he overhear that little story or not? How long had he been standing there before they noticed him? I doubt any of them would know the significance of the information except for Edward. Will he do anything-or will he let it go by? Any thoughts?**

**It's been lots of fun telling you this story-I hope you enjoyed it. I'll be back with more, one of these days.**


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